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Gen. J. Madison Drake 



Historical Sketches 



OF THE 



Revolutionary and Civil 

Wars 



With an account of author's desperate leap from a swiftly 

moving train of cars, and a fatiguing tramp of 1,000 

miles through three Confederate states, in 

making his escape from a Prison-pen 



BY 

J. MADISON DRAKE 

Captain Ninth N. J. Volunteers and Bt. Brig.- 
General by special act of N. J. Legislature 



Historian Ninth N. J. Volunteers, Past Historian Medal of Honor 

Legion, U. S. A., and author of " Fast and Loose in Dixie," 

and " Across the Continent in Red Breeches" 



NEW YORK 

Printed for the Author 
By the WEBSTER PRESS 

1908 



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Copyright, 1908 
By J. MADISON DRAKE 



\<o-lo^%ifZ 



INTRODUCTORY. 

AT the earnest and repeated solicitations ot many citizens 
I present this volume to the public, the chief object of 
which is to preserve in convenient form many personal 
incidents which enlivened the war for American Liberty — 1775- 
1783 — as well as the war for the preservation of the Union — 
1861-1865. 

The sketches of the Revolutionary War are founded upon 
legends I fondly heard when a youth from revolutionary sires 
and their descendants, as well as from official reports and state- 
ments appearing in the newspapers of that period, while those 
relating to the Civil War furnished by the actors, some of whom 
are still living, are given that the heroic actions of my comrades 
may not be effaced by time, nor their wondrous deeds deprived 
of renown. 

The modest work is submitted with the fond hope that it 
may revive proud recollections in the hearts of all true Ameri- 
cans, and inspire them with patriotism and greater love of 
country, for which its braves sacrificed so much. 

What the author has done (in the pages which follow) in 
chronicling and perpetuating the brilliant history of New Jer- 
seymen he much fears will be but an epitome of what might be 
recorded, but such as it is he dedicates it to the 

PATRIOTIC PEOPLE OF AMERICA. 

J. Madison Drake. 
Elizabeth, N. J., 1908. 



Historical Sketches of the Revolutionary 
and Civil Wars. 



PART I.— THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. 



NEW JERSEY'S CONTINENTALS. 

THE first call made on New Jersey for troops in the Revolu- 
tionary War was by a resolution adopted by Congress 
October 9, 1775, and under its provisions two regiments 
of eight companies each were promptly raised. The men, enlisted 
for one year, were to receive five dollars per month, and, in lieu 
of a bounty, a felt hat, pair of stockings, and a pair of shoes. 
They were compelled to provide their own arms and accoutre- 
ments. A few days later Congress showed its further generosity 
to the men who were to expose their lives and do the real work 
by granting each man a hunting shirt, not exceeding in value 
$1.33, and a blanket, providing these articles could be procured, 
This was to be regarded as a gift, not as a part of the enlistment 
contract. 

On the 26th of October, Samuel Tucker, president of the 
Provincial Congress of New Jersey, issued a call for able-bodied 
men to fill the quota, and appointed Elias Dayton, of Elizabeth- 
town, chairman of a commission, to muster the men. 

The first regiment raised in New Jersey had as its first 
colonel William Alexander (Lord Stirling), of Somerset County. 
William De Hart (major), Matthias Ogden (lieutenant-colonel). 
Matthias Halsted (quartermaster), and Aaron Ogden (paymas- 
ter). 

The Second Regiment, with William Maxwell as colonel 
was raised in the middle of the state. 

On the tenth of January, 1776, Congress called for another 
regiment from New Jersey, on the same terms offered the other 
two. None, however, were to be enlisted but healthy, sound and 
able-bodied freemen over sixteen years of age. The call further 



O HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

specified that no apprentice should be enlisted without the consent 
of his master or mistress, and every person under the age of 
twenty-one years, enlisting as aforesaid, may within twenty-four 
hours after their parent or guardian shall have notice of their en- 
listment obtain his discharge by refunding the money received 
from the recruiting officer, and returning such necessaries as may 
have been supplied him by the officer or the value thereof in money. 

Elias Dayton was appointed colonel of the Third Regiment. 
Francis Barber, major; Jonathan Dayton, paymaster, and Rev. 
James Caldwell, chaplain. 

As soon as organized, four companies were sent over to 
Staten Island; the other four to Amboy. On the 28th of April 
the Third Regiment reassembled here, and was reviewed on the 
public ground in front of the First Presbyterian Church grave- 
yard (a valuable property since presented to the church corpora- 
tion by a corrupt city council). On the third of May the First 
and Third Regiments embarked on sloops, and sailed for Albany, 
thus commencing a term of active service, in which they won, dur- 
ing eight years of war, imperishable renown. While in the north, 
companies of the two regiments were stationed at Johnstown. 
German Flats, Fort Dayton (thus named in honor of Colonel 
Dayton), Fort Schuyler, Ticonderoga and Mount Independence, 
to prevent incursions of the Indians. The two commands did 
hard duty in that section until March, 1777, when they returned 
to Morristown in this state, and were mustered out of service, 
their term of enlistment having expired. 

Congress, in September, 1776, called for four regiments, 
offering a bounty of twenty dollars to every man who would 
enlist to serve during the war, unless sooner discharged. Under 
this call Congress made grants of land to all officers and men who 
should serve during the entire war. A colonel was to have 500 
acres; a lieutenant-colonel, 450; a major, 400; a captain, 300; a 
lieutenant, 200; an ensign, 150, and each enlisted man 100 acres 
of land. 

The four regiments thus called for were promptly forthcom- 
ing. They constituted what was for seven years known far and 
wide as the "Jersey Brigade." It participated in every important 
battle of the war, besides taking part in Sullivan's expedition to 
Wyoming Valley, Pa., to punish the Indians for their outrages in 
that section. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



HOW MINUTE-MEN WERE ORGANIZED. 

THE Provincial Congress of New Jersey, on the fifth of 
August, 1775, ordered the various counties to raise and 
equip fifty-four companies of minute-men, of sixty-four 
men each, making a total of 3,456, from which ten battalions were 
formed. Elizabethtown, then really Essex County, furnished one 
regiment, known as the First, to which Lord Stirling, of Bask- 
ingridge, was assigned as colonel. Bergen, Middlesex, Mon- 
mouth, Somerset, Morris, Sussex, Hunterdon and Burlington 
counties each furnished a battalion, Gloucester and Salem coun- 
ties another. Cumberland and Cape May counties organized 
independent companies of infantry and horsemen. 

New Jersey, being a frontier state, with the British occupy- 
ing Staten Island and New York City, was subjected to all the 
dangers and miseries of border warfare, and her losses in pro- 
portion to her wealth and population were probably greater than 
those of any other State, with, perhaps, the exception of South 
Carolina. 

When a powerful British fleet and army appeared off Staten 
Island, July 1, 1776, the disaffected in New York and New Jersey 
greatly rejoiced and united as far as they could in annoying the 
patriots and their provincial governments. Cortlandt Skinner 
who had been attorney-general of New Jersey, with every mem- 
ber of his family, pronounced their allegiance to the British king 
and removed to Staten Island, whither he called all Jerseymen 
who acknowledged their loyalty to the enemy. Skinner was 
quickly appointed a brigadier-general, and ordered to raise 2,500 
Jerseymen, which he thought he would have no difficulty in 
doing, but he succeeded in getting only 500, many of whom were 
low characters, but fit for the cowardly work he set them at. 

In the summer of 1776 the tories of Monmouth, Hunterdon. 
Bergen and Sussex counties became so active in their opposition 
to the measures of Congress that minute-men were sent to arrest 
the leaders. Things took such a turn in Hunterdon that the 
tories committed acts of violence, going so far as to plunder the 
house of Captain Jones, who, in resisting, was beaten and 
wounded. 

Congress then ordered the militia to march to the disaffected 
localities and disarm all who were ascertained to be sympathizers 
or supporters of the British king. 

An act of cruelty that enraged New Jerseymen was the 



8 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

arrest and confinement of Richard Stockton, a member of Con- 
gress, whose home was at Princeton. When the British army, 
in pursuit of Washington, reached that town, they made search 
for Mr. Stockton, who had a few days before taken his family 
down into Monmouth County to save them from danger. A 
British force, dispatched in search of him, dragged him out of 
bed at night, and in his night dress carried him to Amboy, where 
he was put in a dungeon. The ill-treatment he received during 
his long imprisonment at Amboy and New York laid the founda- 
tion for a disease that terminated his existence in 1781. 

On the 17th of July, 1776, the patriots of New Jersey, that 
the world might know where they stood in the times that tried 
men's souls, caused the provincial congress to pass the following: 

"Whereas, The honorable, the Continental Congress, have 
declared the United Colonies free and independent states, we, the 
deputies of New Jersey, in provincial congress assembled, do 
resolve and declare, that we will support the freedom and inde- 
pendence of the said states, with our lives and fortunes, and with 
the whole force of New Jersey." 

This proclamation sounded the death knell of toryism in 
New Jersey during the war for American freedom. 



NEW JERSEYMEN HAD MARTIAL SPIRIT. 

IN no section of this beautiful land have people more firmly 
adhered to patriotic principles than in New Jersey. The 

pure and upright men who came here from New England 
in 1664 were intense lovers of civil and religious liberty, and 
willing to make any sacrifice to enjoy it. Fathers who had fled 
from the oppression of the British government, after coming to 
this virgin soil, told the story of the indignities and wrongs they 
had suffered, and the truths sinking deep into the hearts of their 
children, caused them to hate despotism. The men who settled 
Elizabethtown, and consequently New Jersey, had no love for the 
British throne nor for the pomp and circumstance of corrupt and 
gilded courts. They were jealous of natural and covenanted 
rights, and ever firmly resisted attempts to part with them. 

The people of Elizabethtown were first to follow Massa- 
chusetts in opposing the provisions of the stamp act, passed by 
the British government in March, 1765, and in February, 1766. 
erected a gallows on Broad street, vowing they would hang with- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. V 

out judge or jury any person who purchased or used stamped 
paper. This proclamation had the desired effect. It was because 
of this action on the part of our people that the 26th regiment 
of British regulars was sent here. Meantime our people sol- 
emnly vowed they would not purchase or use any English-made 
goods. In May, 1770, the 29th British regiment, which had 
taken part in the Boston massacre the previous March, relieved 
the 26th regiment. This act of the British authorities maddened 
our people. It added fuel to the fire. 

Nowhere in this country previous to and during the Ameri- 
can revolution was greater patriotism displayed than was 
exhibited by the people of Elizabethtown, and no community made 
greater sacrifices for the cause of liberty and human privileges. 

Elizabethtown, previous to the war and during its continu- 
ance, was the headquarters of the patriots of the state. It was 
here that expressions of sympathy were first heard for the Bos- 
tonians, whose port had been closed by the British in retaliation 
for the "Tea party." 

It was here that this sympathy took practical shape in the 
forwarding of money generously supplied by our people for such 
inhabitants of Boston as had been reduced to extremity and 
want by this action of the British government. 

It was here, before the shot fired at Lexington, that the 
people refused to have commercial intercourse with those whc 
upheld the tyranny of the British government, notably breaking 
off all intercourse with the inhabitants of Staten Island, who were 
inflexibly opposed to the cause of American freedom. 

It was at a critical moment that our people supplied the army 
with powder after the battle of Bunker Hill, in which all the 
Americans had was expended. In less than one month after 
the battle Elizabethans forwarded nearly seven tons of powder 
to the army encamped around Boston, and it was in the old mill 
on South Broad street, that the first powder was manufactured 
in this state. 

The martial spirit of the people of Elizabethtown was fully 
shown in October, 1775, when sixteen companies of infantry and 
one company of horsemen were formed for active service. When 
these minute-men first appeared on Broad street, on the parade- 
ground in front of the First Presbyterian Church grounds, people 
from near and far came to witness the pageant. 

It was here that the first recruiting station in the state was 
organized, and in November, 1775, Lord Stirling, who lived at 
Baskingridge, came down and organized the First Regiment. 



10 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Previous to this the Earl had been colonel of a militia regiment 
in Somerset county. 

June 29, 1776, General Livingston sent three companies of 
Elizabethtown boys to New York to assist in the defense of that 
city, Washington having urgently requested this. These were 
the first troops to leave the state. 

Late in 1775, Staten Islanders who had remained loyal to 
the British crown, finding themselves ostracized by all patriots 
and unable to dispose of their products, became penitent, dis- 
avowed fealty to the king, and sued for recognition by patriots* 
but when the British army, under Lord Howe, landed on the 
island July 2, 1776, they quickly renounced their professions of 
allegiance to the cause of American liberty, and joyfully gave 
the glad hand to the invaders of their soil, and did not withdraw 
it until compelled so to do at the end of the conflict. Staten 
Island, for seven years, was a nest of traitors, and patriots here- 
abouts suffered all that malignity could invent from their maraud- 
ing expeditions. When Staten Islanders crossed to this side of 
the sound they carried knife and torch. 

The day following the disembarkation of the British on the 
eastern shore of the island, red-coated soldiers paraded on the 
western slope in plain view of the people of Elizabethtown, and 
this so enraged two young men that they crossed the sound in 
a canoe, and making their way over the salt meadows, fired a 
number of shots at the insolent foe. The British soldiers, sur- 
prised at the audacity of the two patriots in thus boldiy bearding 
them, made attempts to effect their capture, but failed. 

July 6 most Elizabethans hurriedly fled to the mountains, a 
rumor prevailing that the British on the island intended invading 
the town. The alarm proved false, and the fugitives soon after 
returned to their homes. 

August 26th. Captain Daniel Neill opened with his artillery 
on a British camp on the island, the enemy replying, but doing 
no damage. 

In the latter part of August, owing to the absence of the 
New Jersey troops from this state, the First Regiment of Penn- 
sylvania (mostly from Philadelphia) arrived at Elizabethtown 
to guard it from incursions by Staten Island tories. The Penn- 
sylvanians, however, did more harm than good, and people were 
heartily glad when most of them deserted to return home. 
Washington, pained by their conduct, and the gloom they cast 
among the people, made a touching appeal to their patriotism 
beseeching them to remain faithful to their obligations, as the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. II 

fate of the country, perhaps, depended on the exertion the army 
might make during the next few weeks. The address failed to 
have the effect desired, as the desertions continued. General 
Livingston, in command here at the time, indignant at the con- 
duct of the Pennsylvanians, in a public letter, regretted associa- 
tion with them, classifying the regiment as "a discipline-hatingi 
goodliving-loving, 'to eternal fam'd damn'd,' coxcombical crew." 

August 31, 1776, General Livingston was elected the first 
governor of New Jersey, holding the position fourteen years 
until his death, a longer term than was enjoyed by any other 
executive. 

September 24, Elizabethtowners were considerably exer- 
cised over the unexpected arrival here of 420 American soldiers, 
survivors of the ill-fated expedition of General Benedict Arnold 
to Canada, who had been liberated on parole. Many of the men 
were sick. All were wrecks. They had suffered from frost-bite, 
starvation and cruel imprisonment. As they could not be properly 
cared for here they were conveyed in wagons to Millstone, 
Somerset County. 

November 21, citizens of Newark and Elizabethtown fled to 
the mountains for refuge, owing to a threatened advance of the 
British army. This was one of the darkest periods of the war. 

November 28, Washington, with the wreck of the army, 
barely 3,500 in all, retreated from Newark, where he had been 
nearly a week, Lord Cornwallis, with a powerful and confident 
force, closely following. Cornwallis reached Elizabethtown foui 
days afterwards, and remained several days. He kept his men 
busy foraging for supplies, and rejoiced at the discovery of sev- 
eral tons of leaden bullets, which the people had moulded for the 
army. 

Private property in and about Elizabethtown suffered greatly 
during the war. Governor Livingston's home on Morris avenue 
(now the residence of Senator Kean) being an especially inter- 
esting object to marauders of both sides. The building was pil- 
laged repeatedly, and the marvel is that it was left standing, sc 
implacable was the hatred of the enemy for the most popular 
governor New Jersey ever had. 

During the year 1778, owing to the occupation of the town 
by a considerable force of American troops, kept here for its 
protection, the people were enabled to dwell in comparative safety 
at home. In fact this was the only year during the war in 
which they had any enjoyment of life. 

Governor Livingston's family resided here but little during 



12 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

the entire eight years, finding a refuge at Baskingridge and 
Parcipany. The governor himself, upon whose head the British 
government had set a price of several thousand pounds, remained 
here as much as possible, but was often compelled to mount his 
horse and hie away to the mountains above Springfield to escape 
capture, if not death. Shortly after the futile raid of Colonel 
Sterling with two British regiments, February 24, 1777, to effect 
his capture, Governor Livingston informed Sir Henry Clinton 
by letter that he was "possessed of the most authentic proofs" 
that one of his (Clinton's) general officers (Cortlandt Skinner) 
had "offered 2,000 guineas and a pension for life to an inhabitant 
of this town" to assassinate him (the governor) in case he could 
not be captured alive. 

The chivalrous Briton replied so curtly and impertinently 
that the governor returned a withering rejoinder, which he was 
well qualified to do, for he was master of the English language. 

To further show how desolate the soldiers made the gover- 
nor's home, I quote the following letter written by one of his 
daughters : 

"Kate has been at Elizabethtown ; found our house in a 
ruined condition. Gen. Dickinson had stationed a captain with 
his artillery company in it, and after that it was kept for a bul- 
lock's guard. Kate waited on the general, and he ordered the 
troops removed the next day, but then the mischief was done ; 
everything is carried off that mamma had collected for her accom- 
modation, so that it is impossible for her to go down to have the 
grapes and other things secured ; the very hinges, locks, and 
panes of glass are taken away." 



CAPTURE OF FIRST ENGLISH SHIP. 

IN the early days of the revolutionary war Elizabethtown was 
governed by a committee, composed of its best and ablest 

men. Its public actions were reported direct to congress, 
then, as now, the law-making power of the land. 

William Alexander (titular) Earl of Stirling, a firm patriot., 
residing at Baskingridge, Somerset County, organized the First 
Regiment, New Jersey Volunteers, for the Continental Army, 
shortly after the battle of Lexington, April 19, 1775, and in the 
latter part of that year a battalion was sent to guard this town. 

Monday night, January 22, 1776, Col. Stirling, with some 
forty men of his regiment, all that were in this vicinity, the rest 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 13- 

being with the army on Long Island, left here in wagons for 
Amboy, with the avowed intention of procuring a vessel at that 
place, in which he had decided to attack and capture a British 
transport, said to be lying in Prince's Bay. 

Shortly after Lord Stirling's departure for Amboy, the town 
committee learned that a British gunboat had suddenly left 
New York to go to Sandy Hook and convoy the transport to 
the city. 

Fearing that Colonel Stirling might be overtaken by the 
British war vessel, sent out to defend the transport, he having 
no cognizance of this move on the part of the enemy, the town 
committee despatched a courier to warn him of the threatened 
danger. The committee were to send him reinforcements in boats 
by way of the narrows. 

The committee then hastily summoned Colonel Elias Dayton, 
commanding the Third Regiment (Elizabethtowners), and a 
number of his officers, and ordered them to assemble as quickly 
as possible such of their men as would volunteer for dangerous 
duty. With that characteristic which has ever distinguished 
patriotic citizens of Elizabeth, more volunteers came forward 
and expressed a desire to perform the duty required of them than 
could be accepted. 

When the men had assembled Colonel Dayton made an 
address, picturing the dangers that might possibly surround 
Colonel Stirling, who was absent on a perilous mission, and 
called upon those who wished to go to his assistance, to at once 
provide themselves with arms, ammunition, blankets and rations, 
and report to him at midnight at the wharf at the foot of Eliza- 
beth avenue. 

Meantime the town committee, fully realizing the importance 
of the brief time at its disposal, hastened to the water front and 
selected three of the largest and best shallops, which their 
owners cheerfully prepared for the expedition. 

Promptly at midnight, the tiny craft, laden with more than 
one hundred Elizabethtown boys, under a favoring but icy 
wind from the northwest, sailed in a southerly direction down 
the sound. It had been Colonel Dayton's intention to go by 
way of the narrows, in order to intercept the British war vessel 
sent out in the afternoon, but owing to a strong adverse tide 
and floating ice, reported in New York Bay, the vessels pro- 
ceeded as above stated. 

The trip down the sound was far from being a voyage of 
pleasure, owing to the severity of the weather and the chilling 



14 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

wind, but the patriots, thinking only of the object in view, mur- 
mured not at their exposure to the wintry blasts. Wrapped in 
blankets, and huddled together in the open boats, these brave 
spirits made themselves as comfortable as circumstances would 
allow. It was not the first or last time they suffered for the 
noble cause they so cheerfully espoused. 

Colonel Dayton's little fleet speedily reached Amboy, and 
he at once communicated with Lord Stirling, who had just 
found a craft for the purpose he had in view. The armada, 
under the joint command of Lord Stirling and Colonel Dayton, 
were well out in the bay before "Old Sol" gilded the eastern 
horizon, and although a keen lookout was kept for the British 
transport reported to be in that vicinity, its whereabouts could 
not be discovered. 

Shortly after the rising sun had dispelled the heavy hanging 
mist, the soldier-sailors were made happy on descrying, far 
out on the blue waters, the towering masts of a large vessel, with 
all sail set, and in rapid motion, headed for New York. 

Intense excitement prevailed on the four vessels composing 
the Elizabethtown navy, and every man carefully examined the 
priming of his weapon and nerved himself for the expected con- 
test. The vessels separated to produce the impression that they 
were fishing smacks, and this innocent manouver completely de- 
ceived the commander of the incoming ship. He paid no heed 
to the shallops, and kept on his course, but he was the most sur- 
prised man in the world when he discovered his vessel sur- 
rounded by the American boats, filled with armed men. Before 
he could offer resistance, had he been so disposed, the Elizabeth- 
town craft were run alongside and fastened with grapnel hooks, 
and while men detailed for the purpose quickly climbed on 
board, others kept their muskets trained upon the surprised 
British crew, which surrendered, not a shot having been fired 
by either party. 

The captors gave vent to their joy by repeated cheers, and 
treated the crew so well that it set to work and prepared a steam- 
ing breakfast for the conquerors. The ship, which proved to 
be the Blue Mountain Valley, was taken into Amboy, where 
it became an object of great interest. Owing to strong head 
winds it was found impossible to get the ship to this town, so 
it remained at Amboy till Friday, when it reached here safely 
and to the great satisfaction of the town committee and our 
-people. 

The Blue Mountain Valley was bark-rigged and over 100 feet 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 15 

in length. Its cargo consisted of 107 chaldrons of coal, 30 
bundles of hoops, 100 butts of porter, 225 bags of beans, 150 
sacks of potatoes, mostly decayed, 10 casks of sauerkraut, 7 live 
hogs out of 80 consigned. 

Lord Stirling having reported the capture of the ship to 
congress, that body testified its appreciation by adopting the 
following : 

"Resolved, That the alertness, activity and good conduct 
and spirit of Lord Stirling, and the forwardness and spirit 
of the gentlemen and others from Elizabethtown, who 
voluntarily aided him in taking the ship Blue Mountain Valley 
were laudable and exemplary ; and that his lordship be directed 
to secure the capture until the further orders of congress ; and 
that in the meantime he cause such part of the lading as would 
otherwise perish, to be disposed of by sale." 



THE FIRST CANNON SHOT. 

IT has never been generally known that the first cannon shot 
at the enemy, after the adoption of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence by Congress at Philadelphia, on the evening of 
July 4, 1776, was fired in Elizabethtown, so I will narrate the 
exciting episode. Up to February, 1776, this State, or province 
as it then was, had no artillery organization, and the importance 
of that arm of the service being acutely felt, the provincial con- 
gress, in session at Burlington, on the 13th of that month, 
adopted the following resolution : 

"Resolved, That two complete artillery companies be raised 
in this colony." 

The ordinance provided that the term of enlistment should 
be for one year, and that one company should be stationed in 
the eastern part of the province, the other in the western. Each 
company was to consist of a captain, one captain-lieutenant, two 
second lieutenants, four sergeants, four corporals, and one hun- 
dred and fifty matrosses. (The last term was at that time used 
to denote gunners' mates, or soldiers in a train of artillery who 
assisted in loading, firing and sponging the guns.) 

The day following the passage of the ordinance the first or 
eastern company was organized in Newark by the election of 
the following officers: 

Captain — Frederick Frelinghuysen. 
Captain-Lieutenant — Daniel Neill. 



16 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Second Lieutenants — Thomas Clark, James Heard. 
Captain Frelinghuysen served but one month and resigned 
— Lieutenant Neill succeeding him. 

Shepard Kollock, born in Delaware in 1750, after learning 
the "art preservative of all arts," in Philadelphia, located in 
Elizabethtown after the war had commenced, and joined Cap- 
tain Neill's battery. He was with it when it attacked and 
destroyed a British gunboat, and by his distinguished gallantry 
on that occasion was promoted to the first lieutenancy. At the 
close of the campaign in 1778, General Knox, commanding the 
American artillery, advised Lieutenant Kollock to establish a 
newspaper in Elizabethtown, as he would thereby be able to 
render great service to the patriot cause. Lieutenant Kollock 
liked a soldier's life, and did not want to leave the army, but 
General Knox finally prevailed upon him to engage in the 
newspaper enterprise, so he resigned, and securing a rude outfit 
located in Chatham, a much safer place than Elizabethtown 
was at that period, and for some years afterwards. Lieutenant 
Kollock continued the publication of the New Jersey Journal 
and Political Intelligencer at Chatham until peace was declared, 
when he removed his plant to Elizabethtown, where it has since 
remained. 

Captain Neill, by untiring energy and devotion to duty, 
quickly got his command in good trim for the active service 
it was soon to engage in. In the latter part of June Captain 
Neill, who had been stationed in Newark, being ordered to 
Elizabethtown, took possession of the earthworks at what is 
now the foot of Elizabeth avenue, where he made a comfortable 
camp. To relieve his men from ennui when not engaged in 
drilling, Captain Neill caused them to throw up more dirt, thus 
adding to the strength of the redoubt. He planted his four 
guns so they would command the sound, narrow at that point, 
as well as the entrance to the Elizabeth river, then known as 
"Mill Creek." 

William Livingston, a resident of the town, who resigned 
his seat in the Provincial Congress at Burlington, to be made 
commander-in-chief of the New Jersey militia, overjoyed at the 
presence of Captain Neill's battery, on the morning of July 
4, 1776, wrote General Washington: 

"* * * We now have two field pieces, 18-pounders, with 
a part of Captain Neill's company of artillery in this province." 

Shortly after the mounted courier had set out with the dis- 
patch for Washington's headquarters in New York, American 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 17 

piquets posted on the ground now occupied by the buildings 
of the Singer company, were surprised to see a large British 
gunboat lying off the southern end of Shooter's Island. They 
at once sent word to General Livingston, and early in the evening 
he mounted his horse, ever saddled, and rode to the lower part of 
the town, where he had a conference with Captain Neill, who 
had already taken steps to repel an attack, in case the vessel 
meditated mischief. 

The sudden appearance of the gunboat was a great surprise 
to our soldiers, as no British vessel had been in our waters since 
Washington occupied New York City and Long Island. The 
gunboat was a part of Admiral Lord Howe's fleet, just arrived 
from England, and that day anchored off Clifton, Staten Island. 

Along towards the middle of the night the gunboat was 
seen coming slowly through the Achter Koll. In the soft 
moonlight the craft was plainly distinguishable to our Argus- 
eyed soldiers keeping watch and ward along the shore. As any 
effort they could make against the ship with their smooth-bore 
muskets would be impotent, they maintained a painful silence, 
feeling assured that when it reached the battery our guns would 
give a good account of themselves. 

The commander of the vessel, in blissful ignorance of the 
possession of artillery by the Americans, sailed unconcernedly 
and tranquilly over the placid water. Like most British officers 
at that period of the war, he had profound contempt for Ameri- 
can militiamen, whom he did not consider foemen worthy of his 
steel. 

Captain Neill, who had been on the qui vive for some time, 
on learning of the vessel's approach, impatiently awaited a closer 
proximity in order that his shots might be fully effective, and 
his welcome to the stranger more hearty if less hospitable. His 
guns, ready shotted, were admirably posted close to the water, 
and matches already lighted by the fire-workers. 

It was only when the vessel, but slowly making its way 
through the silver-rippled water owing to the lightness of the 
breeze, reached a point directly opposite the redoubt occupied 
by Captain Neill, that his dogs of war were loosened, and from 
their brazen throats belched forth sheets of bright red flame, 
preceded by iron missiles which swept the deck of the boat, 
carrying death, destruction and dismay to the hitherto confident 
and unsuspecting crew. 

The salvo, like a clap of thunder from a serene sky, whose 
vibrations accumulated and rolled across the waters and along 



18 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Staten Island's beautiful hills, ruthlessly awaking sleeping thun- 
ders of the woods, was followed by a rain of merciless iron, 
utterly demoralizing the officers and crew, and creating scenes 
of indescribable confusion and terror. A state of chaos ensued; 
discipline was thrown to the winds — it was every man for him- 
self. The distracted sailors, finding themselves in a trap, and 
seeing no way of escape save by surrender, deserted the vessel 
by jumping overboard. At least those did who had not been 
killed or maimed by the well-directed fire of our artillerymen. 

Those who thus sought safety by springing into the water, 
endeavored to reach either shore ; most of them, however, struck 
out for the Jersey side on account of its nearness. Some suc- 
ceeded in gaining the Staten Island shore, but many failed to 
reach either. 

Meanwhile the craft, totally disabled, drifted with the out- 
going tide, no attempt being made by any on board to work any 
of the fourteen guns with which it was armed. 

When Captain Neill, true-hearted soldier that he was, saw 
the desperate helplessness of the British sailors, and their at- 
tempts to save themselves, he ceased firing, and sent men to 
rescue them from watery graves. The boat was carried by the 
tide beyond the mouth of the Elizabeth river, and, being in 
flames, went down to Davy Jones' capacious locker just after 
passing the spot now occupied by the Baltimore and Ohio rail- 
road bridge. 

Some thirty years ago oystermen raked up a large number 
of British coins and other articles from this spot, and many be- 
lieved the treasure was at one time possessed by the sailors of 
the ill-fated gunboat. 

General Livingston, who had remained with Captain Neill 
and witnessed the attack and destruction of the vessel, at once 
wrote the following dispatch to General Washington, sending it 
off poste-haste : 

"E. Town, July 4, 1776 — midnight. 

"One of the enemy's sloops of war, mounting fourteen guns, 
having this evening run up to this Point, was attacked from 
the shore by the 12-pounders, a great number of her men killed, 
she set on fire, and entirely destroyed." 

As Captain Neill's attack on the British gunboat occurred 
at midnight July 4, 1776, there can be no shadow of doubt that 
his guns were the first ones fired after the immortal Declaration 
of Independence was adopted, the congress in session at Phila- 
delphia, having formally performed this act between 9 and 10 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 19 

o'clock that evening - . It was the first exploit of the new-born 
nation, and a gallant young patriot, a citizen of this province, 
carried it to success. 

Captain Neill and his battery was shortly after assigned to 
Colonel Thomas Proctor's regiment of artillery, and subsequently 
to the brigade of artillery commanded by General Knox, one 
of the bravest and purest officers in the Continental Army. The 
battery participated in the battles of Trenton, Assanpink Creek 
Princeton and Monmouth. At Princeton the heroic Neill sealed 
his devotion to the cause of American liberty and independence 
with his life's blood, being instantly killed by a British sharp- 
shooter, just after the gallant General Hugh Mercer, a patriotic 
Scotsman, was mortally wounded. 

FIRST BATTLE OF SPRINGFIELD. 

THE darkest and most unpromising period of the patriots in 
the American revolution was the two closing months of 
1776. The sad ending of the campaign on Long Island, 
causing the expulsion of the American army from New York 
City, sent a thrill of horror and distrust throughout the entire 
country, and when Washington, in November, with the wreck 
of his illy-clothed and poorly-provided force, not more than 3,500 
strong, hastily retreated through New Jersey, closely followed 
by a powerful army under Lord Cornwallis, it seemed as if all 
hope for liberty and independence had fled. 

The tories. although few in number, with brethren of the 
same ilk on Staten Island and in New York, loudly predicted 
that the authority of King George would soon be re-established 
and vauntingly declared the Declaration of Independence to be 
an idle boast. While the tories reveled in these delights, the 
most enthusiastic patriots were dispirited by recent events. Since 
the landing of the British army on Staten Island, July 2, the 
patriots of New Jersey had been in a constant state of alarm. 
Members of families had become estranged and intercourse was 
far from cordial. Nobody knew whom to trust, so uncertain 
was the doleful state of affairs. 

The superbly appointed army of Cornwallis quickly spread 
itself over eastern New Jersey, occupying the most important 
points. As he continued in pursuit of Washington, Cornwallis 
left detachments in Newark, Elizabethtown, Spanktown (Rail- 
way), Woodbridge and New Brunswick. 

Colonel Jacob Ford, Jr., of Morris county, had managed 



20 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

to assemble several hundred militiamen and took position among 
them beyond the Short Hills, toward Chatham, while Major 
Oliver Spencer, of Elizabethtown, with some two hundred 
boys, marched to Springfield to guard that section from 
an expected raid of the British from Newark. It was just be- 
fore this that Colonel Ford adopted novel means of apprising 
people in his section of threatened danger. He had been for- 
tunate in securing an old 18-pound iron gun, which he planted 
on a commanding eminence at Springfield, placing as its com- 
panion a tar barrel at the top of a lofty hickory pole nearby. 
This was to be set on fire when the cannon sounded an alarm. 
If by day, an immense volume of black smoke would ascend; if 
by night, the bright blaze could be seen for many miles. These 
were to be regarded as signals of imminent danger to the people 
of the surrounding country as well as an order to the minutemen 
to hasten to the appointed rendezvous for service. 

Very little has been recorded in history of the first battle 
of Springfield, which took place late in the afternoon of Decem- 
ber 17, 1776, four years previous to the more important and bril- 
liant engagement, in which Major Oliver Spencer, one of the best 
soldiers in the Continental army, won renown and a colonel's 
commission by distinguished gallantry. 

General Leslie, commanding a British brigade of more than 
2,000 men, had been left in Elizabethtown by Cornwallis, with 
instructions to make incursions into the interior to annoy the 
people and secure cattle and forage. 

It was early on the morning of December 17 that Leslie left 
Elizabethtown for Plainfield, but as the farmers had gathered 
and attacked him at various points along the road, he halted 
at Westfield, and finding but little to encourage a further advance 
in a westerly direction, started at noon on his return, taking the 
road leading east to Springfield, where he hoped to be more 
successful in securing needed supplies. 

Major Spencer's videttes, posted along this road near 
Springfield, first to discover the British advance, sounded an 
alarm, upon which the signal-gun was discharged for the first 
time and the tar barrel set ablaze. Major Spencer, surprised at 
the approach of the enemy from the direction of Westfield, 
instantly dispatched Nathaniel Crane, of Captain Marsh's light 
horse as an express rider to notify Colonel Ford at Chatham, that 
the enemy, in strong force, was advancing on Springfield. It 
is said that young Crane, a thorough horseman, made the four- 
miles in less than nineteen minutes. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 21 

Notwithstanding the great speed at which he rode over the 
hills, his ride was a task of supererogation, as when he reached 
Colonel Ford's trusty minutemen, he found the command already 
in line and ready to march to the defense of Springfield — the 
reverberations of the old cannon below having given notification 
of threatened danger. 

Meantime, Major Spencer, with his meagre force, had 
fiercely resisted the advance of the British, contesting every foot 
of the ground, never giving way until his flanks were seriously 
threatened. Upon reaching the main road running north (now 
Morris avenue), Major Spencer slowly retreated toward Chat- 
ham, confident of soon meeting the reinforcements he had sent 
for. 

His brave heart leaped with joy when he saw Colonel Ford 
and a thousand minute-men hastening toward him. The two 
commanders had a conference at Briant's tavern, and promptly 
made dispositions to attack the enemy, which, they learned, had 
occupied Springfield. 

To Major Spencer and his Elizabethtown boys, was assigned 
the post of honor (in battle, always the place of danger). They 
were to advance and attack the centre, where the main body 
of the enemy was naturally posted. The British line extended 
from a point west of the village in an easterly direction to the 
Vauxhall road near Millburn. 

Captain Job Bloomfield, of the Morris county battalion, 
crossed over to Vauxhall road, and made a determined attack on 
the enemy's right, while Captain Sylvanus Seeley, of the same 
battalion, commanded the detachment detailed to make an attack 
on the enemy's left, resting along the Westfield road. Colonel 
Ford, with the remainder of his battalion, advanced on the left 
of the Morristown road, keeping within supporting distance of 
Major Spencer, while Captain (afterward Lieutenant-Colonel) 
Elezor Lindsley, of the Elizabethtown battalion, marched on a 
parallel line on the right of the road. 

The sun, low on the southwestern horizon, was casting 
lengthening shadows, when Major Spencer's little force, which 
had advanced cautiously through the dense underbrush, got 
within effective shooting distance, and opened a galling fire on 
the British line, posted on the right bank of a considerable creek 
running through the northerly end of the village. The fighting 
continued along the entire line, a mile and more in extent, when 
darkness put an end to the conflict. Neither side had won, but 
as the British had a strong position and were superior in num- 



22 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

bers, the little American band fell back about a mile to higher 
ground, where it would have a more advantageous position in 
case the enemy advanced in that direction. 

Here the Americans went into bivouac, starting bright fires 
to keep from freezing. Sleep being impossible under the cir- 
cumstances, the men talked over the events of the day, and all 
through the long night kept muskets in hand, longing for an- 
other day, that they might again assail the dastard foe. But 
their expectations in this respect were doomed to disappointment, 
as when the sun rose that intensely cold December morn, nothing 
was to be seen or heard of the enemy, which had taken advan- 
tage of the cover of darkness to retreat, carrying its dead and 
wounded along in wagons. The British commander had no> 
idea, on starting out, that he would, before the sun went down, 
meet with such a force of Americans, or that the wagons he 
took along to convey stolen goods would be required for any 
other purpose. From the haste with which he left the battle- 
field, it was evident he was as glad to retire from Springfield 
as Sir Henry Clinton was that pretty day in June, four years 
afterward. 

General Leslie, during the night, retreated to Newark, enter- 
ing that town during the forenoon. The Americans were greatly 
encouraged with the result of the engagement, claiming a victory,, 
as it undoubtedly was, the enemy having abandoned the field. 
At all events, it was the first time that the British soldier turned 
his back and fled from "insignificant rebels," as American patriots 
were denominated. The battle, small as such an affair may be 
considered in these days of warfare, gave the Jersey Blues con- 
fidence, and taught them the British soldier was not invincible. 

Tradition has it that the farmer boys of Morris county, who 
fought so heroically, vied with the Elizabethtowners in deeds 
of daring, and that the chivalrous Spencer, mounted upon a 
spirited horse, performed prodigies in dashing along the line, 
thus inspiring his men with his indomitable courage. Major 
Spencer's intrepidity attracted the attention of the enemy, whose 
sharpshooters, failing to "bring him down," as they had been 
commanded, riddled his uniform with bullets. At one time, 
while dashing across an open space, and quite close to the British, 
he opened fire with two pistols, his men sending up a cheer that 
awoke the grand old hills in their rear. One might think such 
an act would awaken a feeling of admiration among the British, 
but they failed to appreciate the heroism of the peerless horse- 
man, and gave vent to their feelings by pouring a volley at 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 23 

point-blank range at the gallant major, whose noble charger fell 
dead, under the terrific fire. The major, who had received 
a wound, being unable to extricate himself from underneath the 
dead animal, was rescued from his perilous position by his men, 
despite the great danger incurred in performing the heroic act. 
and within the folds of his silken sash, which he always wore in 
battle, was borne unconscious to the rear. 

Major Spencer, for his skill and bravery on this occasion, 
was immediately promoted to a colonelcy, an honor he richly 
merited. He served faithfully throughout the entire war, being 
mustered out of the army after peace had been proclaimed in 
1783. 

Sad to relate, Colonel Ford, who willingly divided the hon- 
ors of the day with his compatriot, Major Spencer, died at Mor- 
ristown on the 11th of January, 1777, less than a month after 
the battle. Owing to the great exposure and the responsibility 
resting upon him, he was attacked with pleuro-pneumonia, and 
died after a brief illness. He was 40 years old. His father, 
Colonel Jacob Ford, Sr., died at Morristown upon hearing the 
news of the victory won by his gallant son and Major Spencer. 
Colonel Ford was accorded a military funeral by order of Gen- 
eral Washington, Major Spencer commanding the escort. 



HEROISM OF MARYLAND TROOPS. 

MY main object in this chapter is to imbue the minds of 
youths with patriotism ; to show of what kind of stuff 
the boys were composed in the days of the American 
revolution, and to describe fierce contests in which many of 
them engaged one hot day in August, 1777, while laboring to 
establish our blessed government. 

For seven long and trying years, from July 4, 1776, when 
Captain Daniel Neill, with his artillery, destroyed a British sloop 
of war at the foot of Elizabeth Avenue, to March 31, 1783, when 
the last act in the bloody revolutionary drama was performed by 
Major William Crane of "Spencer's Regiment/' resulting in the 
capture of two British sloops of war, lying within pistol shot 
of each other off the Battery in New York, the people of Eliza- 
bethtown suffered untold horrors from forays by the enemy, 
which took delight in rapine, murder and arson. 

It was in consequence of the numerous predatory excur- 



'24 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

sions of the British and tories to the town and vicinity that 
Colonel Matthias Ogden, a native, and one of its best defend- 
ers all through the war, suggested to General John Sullivan, 
his immediate commander, encamped at Hanover, Sussex 
county, with a considerable force, the propriety of invading 
Staten Island in 6-ufncient strength to make reprisals. Colonel 
Ogden, an ardent patriot, always anxious for a fight, had no 
difficulty in convincing General Sullivan that if the project was 
promptly undertaken, success was reasonably assured. 

General Sullivan, pleased to take Colonel Ogden's view of 
the matter, at once arranged an expeditionary force to carry 
out the object stated. Sullivan came to this state with a high 
reputation as a fighter, and his men having the utmost confi- 
dence in his ability, cheerfully engaged in the enterprise. 

Everything being in readiness General Sullivan selected 
1,000 picked men from the brigades of Generals Smallwood and 
De Borre, and marched rapidly to Elizabethtown, reaching it at 
10 o'clock on the evening of August 22, 1777. Colonel 
Matthias Ogden, with his own First New Jersey Regiment, and 
most of Colonel Dayton's Third New Jersey Regiment, and some 
100 militiamen from Colonel Frelinghuysen's command, who 
had been ordered to join the expedition, had previously marched 
to Elizabethtown Point, and south along the water front to a 
point opposite "Fresh Kill" (now Green Ridge), Staten Island, 
where the entire force embarked in boats and was rowed 
across the sound, and up a creek to the high ground. Colonel 
Ogden reached the main road running from Richmond to Tot- 
tenville long before daybreak. 

General Sullivan and his column were conveyed in boats 
from the Point to Palmer's Run, between Castleton and North- 
field, on the north shore. General Smallwood was to attack 
Major Van Buskirk's battalion of Skinner's brigade, numbering 
250 men, at Decker's Ferry (now Port Richmond), while General 
De Borre was to assail Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, 250 men of 
Skinner's brigade, encamped near New Blazing Star ferry (now 
Linoleumville). 

If Colonel Ogden, to whom had been deputed the chief duty, 
succeeded in defeating the force he was first to meet, he was 
directed to follow it up by attacking Lieutenant-Colonel Edward 
Vaughn Dongan's battalion on the Morning Star road, near 
Northfield, and if again successful, to advance at once upon the 
position held by Lieutenant-Colonel Allen on the Amboy road, 
midwav between shore and Graniteville. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



25 



Colonel Ogden displayed the highest attributes of a soldier 
in getting his command across the sound, and in gaining the 
desired point without discovery by the enemy. He had sur- 
rounded the British post long before daybreak, and only waited 
the coming of Aurora's rays to carry his well-laid plans for its 
capture into execution. When the eastern firmament began 
to be illumined by the glorious orb of day, and golden beams 
overspread the scene, Colonel Ogden's men charged impetuously 
upon the silent camp, whose occupants were unaware of the 
presence of the Americans until summoned to surrender. Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Lawrence, the commandant, and 83 men of Skin- 
ner's brigade, promptly complied without firing a shot. They 
were at once put under guard and escorted to the ferry, and 
transported across the sound to this side, and before nightfall 
safely confined in the court house building, destroyed by fire two 
or three years later. 

Having succeeded in carrying out General Sullivan's in- 
structions, Colonel Ogden immediately took up a line of march 
towards Morning Star Road, to attack Colonel Dongan's force, 
which he found in a strong defensive position, and prepared to 
make a stiff fight. The New Jersey boys, however, covered 
by large trees, took careful aim, and wasted neither powder 
nor ball, and within an hour had the enemy on the run, Colonel 
Ogden leading them in a gallant charge. Colonel Dongan 
displayed great bravery, and while urging his men to resist the 
advance of the Americans, was shot through the body, dying on 
the following day. Seeing his commander fall, Major Drum- 
mond assumed command, and made repeated efforts to stop the 
flight of his men, who only halted when they joined Lieutenant- 
Colonel Allen's battalion on the Amboy Road. 

The combined force made a stand, and fought desperately 
for some time, but the Jersey brigade, smarting under outrages 
these same men of Skinner's command had committed in New 
Jersey, poured in deadly shots, and the enemy, no longer able 
to withstand the withering fire, fled in disorder to Prince's 
Bay, where they sought safety in the entrenchments lining the 
shore at that point. 

Colonel Ogden, had his orders allowed, could have bagged 
the party there. He and his brave boys regretted the orders 
were circumscribed. No alternative left, Colonel Ogden, hav- 
ing accomplished his undertaking, retrograded to Old Blazing 
Star (now Rossville), to await the anticipated arrival of General 
Sullivan and his command. Hearing nothing from Sullivan, 



26 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

after a long wait, Colonel Ogden and his men embarked in 
their boats and were speedily conveyed to the Jersey shore. 

Soon after Colonel Ogden engaged the enemy at daybreak, 
General De Borre's brigade attacked Colonel Barton's battalion 
at the New Blazing Star (now Linoleumville), and after a brief 
resistance, seeing the superiority of the American force, the 
British broke from cover, and sought safety in flight. Many 
of them were so panic-stricken that they seized boats lying at 
the ferry and crossed to the Jersey side, while others, thoroughly 
acquainted with the country, took refuge in the dense woods 
near at hand. Colonel Barton and some forty of his men were 
taken prisoners. The Americans in this fight captured a 
British stand of colors, some blankets, arms and clothing. Gen- 
eral De Borre's men burned several British vessels lying at 
the ferry. 

General Smallwood's column having come up, General 
Sullivan moved towards Richmond, expecting to meet Colonel 
Ogden's force, but hearing nothing from Ogden before reaching 
that village, turned to the right and moved to Old Blazing 
Star (now Rossville), where he was surprised to learn that Ogden 
and his command had already crossed the sound. The latter 
had waited for his superior longer than his orders warranted, and 
fearing further delay to be unnecessarily hazardous, concluded 
that safety alone was to be found on this side. 

When General Sullivan reached the ferry and found neither 
Ogden or his boats, he began to fear for the safety of his com- 
mand. Without artillery, and ammunition almost exhausted, and 
a large force of British regulars from Tompkinsville (then 
a watering place), and what remained of Skinner's brigade, gath- 
ering in his rear, and a wide and deep river (sound) intervening 
in front, no boats or relief in sight, and night coming on, his 
position seemed perilous in the extreme. He made an attempt 
to get the boats from this side which Colonel Ogden had used, 
but they were out of sight of his messengers. After some delay 
three boats were discovered, and in these his men were conveyed 
across the sound. It was a laborious task, and attended by mani- 
fold dangers. 

Shortly after the embarkation of the troops had commenced, 
the British appeared in strong force, but were kept at a consid- 
erable distance from Sullivan's main body at the water's edge, 
by eighty Marylanders, commanded by Majors Stewart and Til- 
lard, who maintained a well-directed fire from their rifles. It 
was through the gallant efforts of the Marylanders that the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 27 

enemy was held back until all of Sullivan's troops were safely 
conveyed across the sound. So heroically did the brave South- 
rons contest the advance of the British that the latter were re- 
peatedly driven from points of vantage. The small force of 
Marylanders, however, was at length compelled to retire from 
the high ground and take positions near the water, until it 
stood, like a lion at bay, within twenty rods of the water. 

By this time the British brought up several pieces of 
artillery, and opened with grape and canister upon the little but 
determined band of heroes which had so long and tenaciously 
held a perilous position while safeguarding the retirement of 
the Americans. After the British cannon were brought into 
action it was impossible to get the boatmen to return to the 
Staten Island shore, and so no alternative was left the brave rear- 
guard except to die or surrender. When the Marylanders had 
expended their last cartridge, and with the last hope of cross- 
ing the sound gone, they raised a white flag and about forty of 
them became prisoners. Some sprang into the water and suc- 
ceeded in swimming across the sound, but a number were 
drowned in the excitement. 

General Sullivan, in a letter to congress, gives the following 
summary of his operations : 

"In this expedition we landed on an island possessed by 
the enemy ; put to rout six regiments ; killed, wounded and made 
prisoners at least four or five hundred of the enemy ; vanquished 
every party that collected against us ; destroyed there great quan- 
tities of stores ; took one vessel and destroyed six ; took a con- 
siderable number of arms, blankets, many cattle, horses, etc. ; 
marched victorious through the island, and in the whole course 
of the day lost not more than one hundred and fifty men, most 
of whom were lost by the imprudence of themselves and officers. 
Some few, indeed, were lost by cross-accidents, which no human 
foresight could have prevented." 

General Sullivan was sharply criticised for his failure to 
have boats at the point he desired to recross the sound, whereby 
the safety of his own column was imperiled, and as he was 
blamed for his conduct at Brandywine, where he failed to carry 
out orders, he threw up his commission in disgust, and took no 
further part in the war. 

The redeeming features of the expedition were the brilliant 
and successful operations of Colonel Ogden and his New Jersey 
boys, and the heroic defence made by the Maryland troops in 
holding at bay for several hours a superior force of the enemy, 
while Sullivan's troops crossed to this side. 



28 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



NEW JERSEY SOLDIERS BATTLED WITH INDIANS. 

I WILL devote this chapter to the operations of General 
William Maxwell's New Jersey Brigade, which took an im- 
portant part in the long and wearisome march from this 
town to northwestern Pennsylvania in the summer of 1779, and 
in the short but decisive campaign in which it engaged against 
the Six Nation Confederacy of Indian barbarians, for the foul 
outrages it had committed the previous year upon soldiers and 
peaceful settlers in Wyoming Valley, culminating in the brutal 
massacre of several hundred defenceless men, women and 
children. 

The tales of butchery in that lovely and fertile valley in 1778 
and the cries of mothers and children, outraged and driven from 
their burning homes into the wilds of the almost impenetrable 
forests in that region, heard over the civilized world, received 
the execration of mankind, and brought fearful retribution, not 
only upon the savages, but upon the soldiers of King George, 
who paid ten dollars in gold for each human scalp. 

A year passed ere Washington could attempt to avenge the 
barbarities committed with the aid and approval of the British 
authorities, and then retribution came surely and swiftly, the 
leading part being assigned to three New Jersey regiments, 
which performed the dangerous and onerous duties in a soldier- 
like way, and to the eminent satisfaction of congress and the 
commander-in-chief. 

General Maxwell's brigade, after the battle of Monmouth, 
in which it gained distinction, came to Elizabeth to recuperate 
and obtain needed supplies in the way of clothing and shoes, 
which it stood badly in need of. It spent the winter of 1778-79 
here, and having enjoyed a long rest, was selected by General 
Washington for active duty in the campaign he had decided to 
wage against the Seneca Indians in northwestern Pennsylvania. 

It was in the mellow weather, when the buds of May were 
bursting into the blossoms of June, and all nature was glad with 
the bright promise of the coming summers generous life, that 
the brigade, which then consisted of Colonel Israel Shreve's 
Second New Jersey, Colonel Elias Dayton's Third New Jersey, 
Colonel David Forman's New Jersey Regiment (mostly Mary- 
landers), Colonel Elisha Sheldon's (Connecticut) Regiment of 
Light Dragoons, and a battery of light artillery, took its depar- 
ture from the town to join the expedition, which Washington 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 29 

had entrusted to Major General John Sullivan, of New Hamp- 
shire, one of the truest officers in the army. Many friends of 
the soldiers accompanied them several miles on the way, and the 
leave-takings were sorrowful, owing- to misgivings as to the 
outcome of the battles which might be looked for with crafty 
enemies in the wilderness. 

The brigade reached the general rendezvous, Wyoming 
(now Wilkes-Barre), in August, after a long and fatiguing march. 
The other commands, composing the expedition, arrived shortly 
afterward by way of New York, and while awaiting their ap- 
proach the Jersey brigade marched up the Chemung river, a 
distance of twelve miles, to a village of that name, where the first 
Indians were encountered. Although the Jerseymen advanced 
upon the village in broad day, they fell into an ambuscade, and 
sustained quite a loss in killed and wounded. Surprised by the 
attack, they quickly took to cover, and finally compelled the 
savages to retire. The Jerseymen, in revenge, after driving 
the enemy through the village, set the place on fire, destroying 
every habitation, cut down several acres of corn, and retired 
to Wyoming late in the afternoon, carrying along their dead and 
wounded and a plentiful supply of corn, pumpkins and garden 
truck, which they conveyed in boats that had been taken up the 
river. 

Shortly after this, General Sullivan ordered Colonel Shreve, 
of the Second New Jersey, to build a large stockade fort at the 
junction of the Susquehanna and Chemung Rivers, a few miles 
away. The stockade, when completed, enclosed ground 100 
yards square. It was formed by digging a trench nearly three 
feet deep, and standing logs, about twelve feet long, therein. 
Massive gateways were constructed on three sides. When the 
brigade, in its forward movement, first reached the majestic 
Susquehanna, which it was necessary to cross at a given point, 
the battery opened fire on the dense woods on the opposite side, 
the presence of Indians being feared. Scouts who crossed, 
signalling favorably, the brigade entered the swiftly running 
waters, which, in places, reached to the men's armpits. 

Sergeant-Major Grant, of Colonel Dayton's Regiment, in 
describing the crossing, says: 

"The manner in which it was performed was by forming 
platoons, each man grasping his fellow's hand supported each 
other. General Hand, who commanded the division, quit his 
horse and waded with cheerfulness. The water was rapid, and 
took the men above the middle, notwithstanding, the army 



30 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

crossed in the space of half an hour without the loss of either 
man or horse, or any baggage. The sight was beautiful and 
pleasing, but must have been very terrifying to the enemy, who, 
it is very probable, saw us from neighboring hills which over- 
look the water. We likewise crossed the Tioga or Cayuga 
much in the same manner as before." 

To Colonel Shreve, of the Second New Jersey Regiment, 
had been assigned the care and defense of Fort Sullivan, which 
his men had constructed, while the rest of the army proceeded 
further into the Indian country. His duties incurred great dili- 
gence and responsibility. Besides his regiment of 250 men, 
several hundred invalids were confided to his keeping. It was 
anticipated that when the expedition reached the interior battles 
would be fought, so Colonel Shreve was directed to provide 
hospital accommodations for the wounded, and also for the 
removal of such as could be carried to Wyoming in boats. He 
performed his duties so well that General Sullivan, on his return, 
in general orders commended his "faithfulness, zeal and dili- 
gence." 

From August 30 until September 16, the army, in pursuit of 
the redskins, voluntarily subsisted on a half ration of flour and 
meat, most of which the men carried in haversacks. Their wants 
were, of course, supplied with corn and such vegetables, planted 
by the Indians, as could be found in the fields they devastated. 
A crow would have found it difficult to subsist on what was left 
by our army in its terrible march through that virgin and roman- 
tic land. This diet, with the early autumn weather, occasioned 
considerable sickness among the troops, but notwithstanding the 
severity of the long marches and the dangers to which the men 
were constantly exposed, the loss was but 41 men, of whom 4 
died from sickness, 1 was drowned, and 1 accidentally killed in 
camp. The latter was a captain in General Hand's brigade. 
Thirty-five were killed in battle, and more than 100 wounded. 

Pursuit of the Indians having ceased, the Jersey Brigade, 
on its return, stopped at Fort Reed, to await the arrival of other 
columns, and while here General Maxwell, so highly pleased 
with the conduct of his men, and the success of the expedition, 
held a jubilee, which Lieutenant William Barton, of the Second 
New Jersey Regiment, a native of Hunterdon county, thus de- 
scribes : 

<<* * * j n t i ie forenoon (September 25), the army all 
discharged their muskets, with orders to parade at 5 o'clock in 
the afternoon, each man to be furnished with blank cartridges. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



31 



According- to orders the whole paraded in a line to fire a feu de 
joie, when thirteen rounds of cannon was fired. Then began a 
running fire of muskets from the right through the whole ; this 
not being performed to the general's liking, he ordered the whole 
to charge (load) again ; after this was done he ordered the whole 
to be put in readiness, and not a man fire until he should come 
opposite him. All being in readiness, he put his horse off at 
full speed and rode from right to left with whip and spur, men 
all firing according to orders, which made it very grand, and 
caused the general to say it went like a hallelujah. After three 
cheers given for the congress in consequence of their resolutions 
of the 18th of August, and then three for the United States, and 
thirdly for the King of Spain, our new ally, and thus the day 
ended with joy, the officers of each brigade furnished with one 
of the best bullocks there was, extra." 

The army reached Fort Sullivan September 30 at 2 o'clock 
in the afternoon, and marched into the enclosure, where it was 
received with military honors, the garrison turning out with 
presented arms, the artillery firing a salute of thirteen guns, one 
for each state. Lieutenant-Colonel Adam Hubley wrote of the 
reception : 

"Colonel Shreve, of the Second New Jersey, governor of the 
garrison, had an elegant dinner provided for General Sullivan 
and all the field officers of the army. We regaled ourselves, and 
great joy and good humor was visible in every countenance. 
Colonel Proctor's band, and drums and fifes played in concert 
the whole time. Saturday, October 2, the commander-in-chief 
made an elegant entertainment, and invited all the general and 
field officers to dine with him. In the evening, to conclude the 
mirth of the day, we had an Indian dance, the officers who 
joined in it putting on vizors (alias Monetas). The dance was 
conducted and led off by a young Sachem of the Oneida tribe, 
who was next followed by several other Indians, then the whole 
led off, and after the Indian custom danced to the music, which 
was a rattle, a knife and a pipe, which the Sachem continued 
clashing together and singing Indian the whole time. At the 
end of each the Indian whoop was set up by the whole." 

In this expedition our army burned forty Indian villages, 
destroyed 200,000 bushels of corn, besides thousands of fruit 
trees, and immense quantities of beans and potatoes. It was 
successful in every respect and extremely gratifying to General 
Washington, who in orders from West Point October 17, con- 
gratulated the army on General Sullivan's success, adding that 



32 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

"the whole of the soldiery engaged in the expedition merit and 
have the commander-in-chief's warmest acknowledgments for 
their important services." 

General Maxwell's brigade returned to this town the latter 
part of October, and met with a hearty welcome from our peo- 
ple, who, despite great joy at again beholding their brave soldier 
boys, were compelled to laugh at their appearance — their apparel 
barely covering their nakedness, having been torn into shreds 
by bushes and brambles through which for several months they 
had been marching. 



FIERCE BATTLE IN DEEP SNOW. 

THE winter of 1779-80 in this region was of terrible severity, 
causing intense suffering to man and beast. Cold 
weather commenced in November, and snow-storms fol- 
lowed in quick succession. The rivers and Staten Island sound 
remained solidly frozen from November to the middle of March. 
There was no navigation in the waters about New York for 
nearly three months, the ice being of such solidity that horses 
and vehicles traveled upon it with greater facility than on the 
earth. 

It was during this unexampled season that Washington's 
troops at Morristown suffered so much for the necessities of 
life owing to the blockade of the roads by snow. Foraging 
parties had great difficulty in procuring and getting back to 
camp with needed supplies, which they were obliged to seek from 
farmers. Colonel Matthias Ogden, of this town, was finally 
selected by Washington to scour Essex county and collect 
what cattle could be found. Although he and his foragers 
suffered more than tongue can tell from intense cold and expo- 
sure, they managed to return to the camps at Morristown and 
the Short Hills with the provender which the half-famished sol- 
diers needed. 

Washington, about Christmas time, sent General William 
Irvine, of his staff, to this town to consult with Colonel Elias 
Dayton, who, with his Third Regiment, was stationed in and 
about the town, in reference to the practicability of making a 
successful raid on Staten Island. Irvine promptly reported to 
the commander-in-chief that his scouts had visited the island, 
where they had found but about 1,200 men in all, most of whom 
were renegade Americans without the spirit of fight, and the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 33 

sound so tightly frozen that it could be crossed in safety. Gen- 
eral Irvine's report, endorsed by Colonel Dayton, was so roseate 
in character that Washington at once gave directions for a 
movement of all the troops in this locality that could be promptly 
and conveniently assembled in Elizabethtown within a given 
time. 

General (Lord) Stirling, entrusted with the command of the 
expedition, came down here just after the big snow-storm of 
January 3, and at once commenced preparing for the work to 
which he had been assigned. In his labors he was ably assisted 
by Colonel Dayton, who, with his command, was burning to 
cross to Staten Island and engage the tories and refugees, many 
of whom had left Elizabethtown early in the war for the good 
of the community and the cause. 

Including the eight companies of Colonel Dayton's regi- 
ment, General Stirling, within ten days, had the satisfaction of 
seeing a force of 2,500 men assembled in this town. 

It was on the night of January 14 that this little army ren- 
dezvoused on the open parade ground in front of the First 
Presbyterian Church on Broad Street, where previously had been 
collected a large number of sleds and sleighs, any kind of a vehi- 
cle to which runners were attached, and which could be drawn 
by horses and oxen. These vehicles had not been requisitioned 
for pleasure purposes, but were to be used solely for the trans- 
portation of reserve ammunition, rations, medical supplies, etc., 
to break a pathway through the snow which yet lay deep on 
the earth, so that the infantry could more readily march, and 
to bring back the dead and the wounded should there be any 
casualties. 

Before daybreak on the morning of the fifteenth the column, 
full of joyous spirits, had reached the ice-bound sound, over 
which it silently passed without detection or resistance on the 
part of the enemy. The tramp over the salt meadows, waist 
deep in snow, to the point now known as Elm Park, was ex- 
tremely fatiguing, but the gallant men who were suffering and 
about to imperil their lives in battle, uttered no complaint, being 
anxious to revenge themselves upon the traitorous Staten Island- 
ers, who bitterly hated the patriots of the town and the cause 
they represented. 

The Americans at noon succeeded in reaching the forks of 
the road at the "Blazing Star," now Rossville, thus cutting off 
the British general — Sterling — encamped within a strong earth- 
work on Pavilion Hill, where Fort Wadsworth now stands, from 



34 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

communication with Colonel (Lord) Rawdon, commanding the 
Royal Irish Volunteers, on the easterly shore at the foot of 
the Narrows, and Lieutenant-Colonel Simcoe, in command of 
the "Queen's Rangers," mongrel Americans, who espoused the 
King's cause. 

When the Americans reached the old Mill Road, now 
Columbia Street, New Brighton, General Stirling divided his 
force into three columns. The smaller detachment was con- 
fided to Lieutenant-Colonel Willett, with instructions to proceed 
to Decker's Ferry, now Port Richmond, and capture a tory 
force of some 200 men, commanded by Colonel Van Buskirk. 

The main column, commanded in person by General Stir- 
ling, marched as rapidly as possible along the shore towards 
Tompkinsville, at that period noted as a summer resort for the 
wealthy people of this section. General Philemon Dickenson, 
in command of the other column, proceeded on the old road to 
Dongan's Mill, with instructions to keep constantly within sup- 
porting distance. 

The shades of night were falling fast when General Stirling 
got within view of the British position, which was found to 
be more formidable than had been expected. The strong re- 
doubts occupied by the British had been made more difficult 
to approach by the recent heavy fall of snow, which, by drifting, 
had formed an immense bank on the western front. 

Long before General Stirling reached the danger point his 
advance had been discovered by the enemy, which at once, made 
preparations to resist attack. Stirling, finding the enemy fully 
alert and most advantageously posted, and much stronger in 
numbers than he had anticipated, with night near at hand, went 
into bivouac, to wait the advent of another day. During the 
fearfully cold night that followed, the Americans maintained 
huge fires, around which they huddled to keep from freezing. 
When day at length broke, General Stirling, learning that Knyp- 
hausen was despatching reinforcements from New York, and 
that the force under Colonel Willett had completely surprised 
Van Buskirk's tories at Decker's Ferry, and burned nine sailing 
vessels and a number of fishing boats, he ordered a retreat, which 
was accomplished without molestation on the part of the enemy. 

Lieutenant-Colonel Simcoe, in command of the British 
cavalry and infantry encamped on the high grounds near Rich- 
mond, on learning of the approach of our little army, in mortal 
fear of an attack, hastily sent men out to gather all the cattle, 
harness, horses and sleds in the neighborhood, and bring them 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 35 

within his defensive works. This precaution was in a measure 
successful. Simcoe hoped, in case of attack, to hold Richmond 
until reinforcements could reach him from New York. He 
gave up all thought of receiving assistance from General Sterling, 
his immediate commander, when he learned the Americans had 
marched to attack that officer at Tompkinsville, a few miles 
away. 

Simcoe, in his desperation, ordered Colonel Christopher 
Billopp, who commanded the militia on Staten Island, to imme- 
diately assemble his men in Richmond for the defence of the 
place. But neither orders, entreaties, or the personal example 
of Billopp had any effect. Not a man responded. None of 
them had any desire to meet their old neighbors from New Jer- 
sey. These gallant militiamen preferred to lounge around the 
various public houses to talk of the war and drown their trou- 
bles by drinking poor rum, or by providing for the security of 
their cattle and other effects, which they were just now fearful 
of losing, to meeting men they dreaded in battle. Most of these 
fellows were refugees, and being originally from New Jersey, 
some of them from Elizabethtown, they had every reason to 
evade a call to arms, as in the not improbable event of capture, 
they knew they would receive the short shrifi their perfidy and 
treason justly merited. A guilty conscience needs no accuser. 

When Colonel Simcoe learned next morning that the Ameri- 
cans were retreating across the island, he started in pursuit with 
two companies of Hussars, but failed to overtake them. 

Colonel Willett, after a lively brush with Van Buskirk's 
tories at the Ferry, put them to flight, burned Isaac Decker's 
house, because he had guided the British in their raids in this 
state, set fire to a number of vessels, and came away with ten 
prisoners, and many blankets greatly needed by our men. In- 
formed of General Stirling's retrograde movement, he marched 
rapidly and rejoined the column before it reached the sound, 
which was crossed at DeHart's ferry at noon. 

General Stirling, in his official report of his movements to 
Washington, says : 

"* * * The retreat was effected in good order, and with 
very little loss. A party of the enemy's horse, under Major 
Edwards, charged our rear-guard, but was immediately repulsed. 
They had three men killed. Some few of the men were frost- 
bitten, and though we took all the pains in our power to have 
all those unable to march transported in sleighs, yet I imagine 
a very few have been left behind. 



36 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

"* * * While the troops were upon the Island, a number 
of persons from this side (Elizabethtown) took advantage of this 
occasion to pass upon the island and plunder the people there in 
the most shameful and merciless manner. Many of them were 
stopped on their return, and their booty taken from them. All 
the soldiery, on re-crossing the ice, were searched, and the little 
plunder they had taken from them, and their names noted, that 
they might be brought to punishment." 

Incensed at the wanton vandalism and thievery of evil- 
disposed men from this vicinity who followed General Stirling's 
force to Staten Island, General Cortlandt Skinner, commanding 
a brigade of tory New Jerseymen on the Island, quickly arranged 
a "return visit" for retaliatory purposes. Skinner, a lawyer, was 
the last English attorney-general of New Jersey. 

Although most of the property carried away by General 
Stirling's camp followers, invariably a worthless and cowardly 
set, had been promptly returned to the despoiled Staten Island- 
ers by Chaplain Caldwell, detailed by Washington to perform 
that duty, they refused to be pacified, and smarting under the 
infliction, demanded that the British authorities whose cause 
they had espoused, should cross over to Elizabethtown and 
obtain full satisfaction for the outrages committed. 

General Washington, who had given express orders to 
General Stirling against pillage or excesses of any nature, on 
learning of the misbehavior of some of the soldiers, and the 
thievery of the worthless vagabonds who went along, ordered an 
investigation of the matter. When General Stirling reached this 
side of the sound on his return, he halted his command, and had 
his officers inspect the men for plunder. What was thus found 
was at once returned to Staten Island under a flag of truce, and 
the names of the men implicated in the robbery noted. Most 
of them were court-martialled and punished for a violation of 
orders. The camp followers were rounded up and compelled 
to disgorge their ill-gotten wealth. 

This restoration of the stolen articles, however, did not sat- 
isfy the angry Islanders, and they importunately demanded that 
General Skinner should invade the town, and take bitter revenge, 
not only for the damage inflicted, but also for perturbing their 
minds. General Skinner lost no time in acceding to their 
demands, and having completed details for an expedition, se- 
lected 130 infantrymen from the first and third battalions of 
his command, and put them in charge of Lieutenant John Van 
Buskirk, son of Lieutenant-Colonel Abraham Van Buskirk, a 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 37 

native of New Jersey. Some fifty dragoons, commanded by 
Lieutenant Neal Stewart, were also detailed for the expedition. 

Everything being in readiness, the little force, guided by 
the notorious Cornelius Hetfield, and his infamous brothers, Job 
and John Smith Hetfield (all natives of this town), set out from 
Richmond late in the afternoon of January 25, and crossed 
Staten Island Sound on the ice at Trembly's Point, three miles 
below this town. 

The sixty American soldiers stationed here, to whom had 
been entrusted the safety of the place, together with the inhabi- 
tants, were in blissful ignorance of the advance of the enemy, 
little dreaming of danger or molestation until awakened at mid- 
night by fierce blasts of bugles and the heavy clatter of horses' 
hoofs. 

The British entered the town from the south by two differ- 
ent roads before their presence became known to the people, 
the Hetfield boys, familiar with every road and by-path in this 
region, being excellent guides. The three brothers had been 
banished from this town early in the war for treasonable prac- 
tices, and taking refuge among men of their own ilk on Staten 
Island, who gladly welcomed them, they became active partisans 
for the enemy. These renegades, degenerate sons of a worthy 
and patriotic sire, took fiendish delight when able to inflict dam- 
age on the people of this community, which they never lost an 
opportunity of doing, especially if the transaction was unattended 
by personal danger. 

There is a legend that while the British troops were in town 
on this fateful night, Cornelius Hetfield rode over to the home 
of his aged parents on the "Landing," and after rudely awaking 
them from sleep, swore he would with his own hands apply a 
torch to the First Presbyterian Church edifice. His father, a 
highly-esteemed citizen and an elder in the congregation, impor- 
tuned the wayward and head-strong boy to spare the sacred 
building. He might as well have attempted to curb the wind. 
Uttering loud and bitter imprecations, the unfilial son put spurs 
to his horse and dashed rapidly away. An hour afterwards a 
cloud-reaching flame, illumining the surrounding country, 
proved that the renegade had fulfilled his impious threat. 

The church building, also used for many years as a town 
meeting-house, was built in the year 1665. It was a frame struc- 
ture 36 feet wide and 46 feet long. The grounds attached em- 
braced about eight acres, and extended west to the river, then 
called "Mill Creek." The land was originally donated to the 



68 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

church trustees by the first purchasers and their "Associates," 
but as the original deed could not be found in 1719, the free- 
holders "allowed" the grounds to the church trustees and their 
heirs and successors. 

Isaac Decker, whose house at the ferry at Richmond, had 
been burned on the 15th by Colonel Willett's men, who had been 
fired upon from its windows, still smarting under the injury done 
him, applied a torch to the court house building adjoining the 
church, and this, too, was entirely consumed. 

The lurid flames from the fiercely burning structures were 
seen by our soldiers in Newark and at other points, and the 
long roll and other signals of danger sounded. It was a wierd 
spectacle the people of this town witnessed that cold winter's 
night when they saw flames consuming structures to which they 
were devotedly attached, and jubilant and excited red-coated sol- 
diers giving vent to their joy at the destruction of cherished 
land-marks, which the patriots were unable to prevent. 

The two buildings consumed were constructed of wood, and 
neither had ever been beautified by artificial means. No union 
painter's brush had sought their ornamentation. They had 
weathered storm and sunshine for more than a century's time, 
and were always objects of veneration to our people. The 
church building was especially dear, hallowed as it was by 
recollections of worship therein by Pilgrim fathers, and the reli- 
gious instruction given by Dickenson, Spenoer, Whitefield and 
Caldwell, the most noted preachers then in this country. 

The court house, one of the oldest buildings in town, was 
used in the early part of the war for the confinement of prisoners 
of war, Elizabethtown having been designated as a general depot 
of exchange. It was here that the survivors of Benedict 
Arnold's ill-fated expedition to Canada were brought for ex- 
change. Colonel Ethan Allen, for a time, had charge of the 
British prisoners confined here. 

When the patriot father of the miscreant Cornelius Hetfield 
visited the ruins on the following day his heart bled within him 
at his undutiful son's sacriligious act. As there was no other 
building in town capable of accommodating an audience, the 
elder Hetfield tendered the use of his large frame building known 
as the "Red Store House," located on the east side of Cherry 
street, near Rahway Avenue, then the most populous and impor- 
tant section of the town, and the kind offer being accepted by the 
congregation, the structure was remodelled, provided with seats, 
and for several vears afterwards used as a meeting: house. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 39 

The sudden and totally unlooked-for descent of the enemy 
caused consternation, not only among the American soldiers, 
but among all the inhabitants who had been awakened by bugle 
blasts, the hoarse voices of the British soldiery, and the dis- 
charge of fire-arms. A dozen soldiers on guard at the Cross- 
Roads (now Union Square) were the only ones who escaped. 
They fled on hearing the firing on Cherry Street, where the British 
first surprised the American guards, and gained our lines at 
Newark. 

The British cavalry crossed Mill Creek, where the stone 
bridge stands on South Broad Street, and dashed rapidly up 
Broad Street, the advance halting at Jersey Street. At that 
period there were but half a dozen houses on Broad Street. 
The loud warning the Britons gave to the people to remain within 
doors was religiously observed, and no citizen had the temerity 
to show himself out of doors until after daylight, and not then 
unless morally certain the enemy had withdrawn. 

The British having satisfied themselves with plunder from 
private dwellings, and satisfied with the destruction wrought, as 
well as the easy capture of five commissioned officers and some 
fifty men of a Maryland regiment, retreated down what is now 
Elizabeth Avenue and First Avenue, to the sound at DeHart's 
Point. As a parting blow at the old town, the departing enemy 
set fire to De Hart's ferry house, the bright light from which 
illumined their pathway across the sound. 

Washington, justly incensed, not only at the destruction of 
public and private property, but at the non-watchfulness and 
cowardice of the Maryland troops sent here to protect the town, 
classified the event as a "misfortune and disgrace," and two days 
afterward ordered General Arthur St. Clair, who was at the 
Short Hills, to come down here and investigate the causes of the 
disaster, and take command of all the forces from Paulus Hook 
(now Jersey City) to Perth Amboy. 

The winter of 1779-80 was the severest on record. The 
ground was covered with snow from the middle of November to 
the first of April. January 3, 1780, snow fell to a depth of from 
four to six feet, and all the waters about here were frozen till 
the first of March. The season opened late, not a blade of green 
grass being observable hereabouts as late as the 18th of May. 



40 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE GOVERNOR. 

IN "the days that tried men's souls," New Jersey had no firmer 
patriot or abler or wiser counselor than Governor Living- 
ston. No Jerseyman, during the revolution, took so prom- 
inent a part in public affairs. No man in the land did more for 
the cause of American liberty — none made greater sacrifices for 
the public weal. No other Jerseyman was so bitterly hated by 
the British and tories, and none was more cordially loved and 
trusted by every friend of Freedom. 

Time and again did the British and renegades on Staten 
Island descend upon this town, both by night and day, to effect 
the capture of the governor, but the most serious attempt in 
this direction was made on the night of February 24, 1779, 
when the 33d and 42d Regiments, with some light guards, num- 
bering in all over 2,000 trained troops, under command of Lieut- 
Colonel Sterling (afterward general, who was killed a year later 
at Union Square by an American sharpshooter), embarked on 
Long Island, and a few hours afterwards landed without dis- 
covery near Crane's Ferry, on Newark Bay, a mile north of the 
present Singer factory. 

The British force was guided by Cornelius Hetfield, Jr., and 
his brother, John Smith Hetfield, Elizabethtown boys, who, three 
years previous, had been banished from this place, owing to their 
treasonable sentiments and opposition to the patriot cause. 

After disembarking, long before daylight, the 42d Regiment, 
headed by Colonel Sterling, marched rapidly across the meadows 
by paths thoroughly known to the Hetfield boys, and soon gained 
the upland near the present city almshouse (then known as 
Woodruff's Farms). Reaching this point, the British com- 
mander was surprised to learn of the non-arrival of the 33d Regi- 
ment and the guards, who had failed to follow in the darkness 
owing to a misunderstanding of orders. 

Colonel Sterling reached the town as the Americans departed, 
him forthwith, but the colonel of the 33d refused to recognize 
the order given verbally by a man he did not know, and who 
could not show any credentials. This blunder caused several 
hours' delay, and imperilled the success of the expedition, as it 
afforded time for the American militiamen to rally, which they 
very promptly did as usual. 

Colonel Aaron Ogden, a native of this town, first to learn 
of the enemy's landing and of its advance, sent word to General 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 41 

Maxwell, in command of a small force at the barracks on Cherry 
Street, and that gallant soldier at once assembled his troops, 
alarmed the town, and retreated towards Galloping Hill, many 
citizens hurriedly following, taking with them in their hasty flight 
such personal and household effects as they could carry. 

Colonel Stirling reached the town as the Americans departed 
and quickly seizing all roads leading out, stationed guards to 
prevent surprise. This accomplished the British commander dis- 
patched a force, guided by Cornelius Hetfield, to "Liberty Hall," 
to capture Governor Livingston. 

Fortunately the governor was at the home of a friend near 
Springfield, and thus escaped. The Britons, after quietly sur- 
rounding the mansion, forcibly entered, and were surprised to 
find themselves confronted by Miss Kate Livingston, the gov- 
ernor's daughter, a brave and patriotic girl, who roundly de- 
nounced the ruthless invaders of her home for their untimely 
visit. 

Miss Livingston, inured to war and without fear in her 
soul, burning with indignation, ordered the raiders to leave the 
mansion, and some, very much ashamed of themselves, were on 
the point of complying, when the British officer in command 
gave polite assurance to the brave girl that no harm should befall 
her, and directed his men to make a search of the premises for the 
governor. 

This proving a fruitless errand, the commandant demanded 
that Miss Livingston reveal the depository of the state's papers. 
She parleyed with the officer as long as possible to gain time 
for our troops to pull themselves together and reach town, and 
only when her art at subterfuge failed, did she consent to lead 
the way to an apartment in which she happened to remember, 
was stored some worthless documents. A large trunk, filled 
with important looking papers, quickly attracted the attention of 
the raiders, and was removed in a hurry. The soldiers dis- 
played great glee over what they considered a valuable find, and 
departing, soon after joined Colonel Sterling in the heart of the 
town. 

While awaiting the return of the detachment from the gov- 
ernor's home, Colonel Sterling had kept his men busy collecting 
horses and cattle, a considerable number of which were gathered. 
When the British commandant learned that Governor Living- 
ston had not been captured, he gave vent to his rage by ordering 
the burning of the state barracks on Cherry Street, and the par- 
sonage of the First Presbyterian Church close by, and to make 



42 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

his visit more memorable he directed his men to fire the public 
school academy, standing on Broad Street, where the First 
Church lecture room is now located. One or two other struc- 
tures were also fired. 

Shortly after daylight General Maxwell, who had succeeded 
in getting reinforcements from Rahway and Newark, having 
meantime ascertained the position and strength of the enemy, 
advanced on the town from the northwest, first engaging the 
British posted at the river on what is now West Jersey Street. 
The enemy opened a spirited musketry fire, but gave way rapidly 
when the Americans opened with two light field pieces. They 
speedily joined Colonel Sterling on Broad Street, where he stood 
witnessing the burning of the Academy. Quickly recalling his 
different detachments, Sterling, sending ahead the cattle his men 
had stolen, commenced his retreat down Elizabeth Avenue, his 
rear covered by the light guards. 

General Maxwell, now feeling greatly encouraged, and al- 
most sure of capturing the British force, followed in close pur- 
suit, using his two field pieces with considerable effect on the 
fleeing and disheartened foe. Before the British reached New 
Point Road they had become so frightened that they were glad to 
abandon the horses and cows, all of which were recaptured and 
restored to their joyous owners. 

The immediate pursuit of the enemy was entrusted to three 
of the best officers in the American army — Colonels Dayton, 
Ogden and Barber — all natives of this town. These gallant 
spirits pursued the British relentlessly, giving them no time to 
stop and fight, even if they desired that sort of relaxation. It 
was fight by our farmer boys all the way to the water. While 
the intrepid Ogden, who had the advance, was making a recon- 
noissance, he was imprudently led into an ambuscade, and came 
within an ace of losing his life. Suddenly confronted by four or 
five British infantrymen, who had secreted themselves in the 
dense brush lining the narrow roadway, he attempted to cut his 
way out, and while doing so a Briton thrust his bayonet through 
the right side of his body. Ogden's men, coming up, opened fire 
on the Britons, some of whom were killed. Colonel Ogden, with 
the rusty weapon still in his body, was taken to the building now 
used as the "Old Ladies' Home" on East Jersey Street, where 
it was finally removed through the efforts of several surgeons 
who had been summoned. Colonel Ogden recovered from the 
ghastly wound, although he was laid up for a long time, and 
some years afterwards was chosen governor of our state. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 43 

The retreat of the British down New Point Road was pre- 
cipitous owing to the closeness of the pursuit by our enraged 
militiamen. The enemy's officers made repeated attempts to 
rally their men, but demoralization having superceded discipline, 
their flight continued. At one spot our men made a gallant 
charge, and got so close to the British that many of them, in 
their fright, left the narrow roadway, and fleeing across the 
meadows, became mired in the swampy land. 

When the discomfited foe at length reached the place of em- 
barkation, the men experienced great difficulty in getting to the 
boats, which lay anchored some distance out in Newark Bay, 
owing to the shallowness of the water, and had not the British 
been protected by several sloops of war, which opened fire upon 
the enthusiastic Americans, the entire force would undoubtedly 
have been captured. 

As it was the enemy had ten killed, forty wounded, and 
twenty-one captured. 

The Americans lost one killed and five wounded — one of the 
latter being Lieutenant Rencastle. 



BATTLE OF CONNECTICUT FARMS. 

ELIZABETHTOWN, during the winter of 1779-80, guarded 
only from time to time by small detachments of Conti- 
nentals and militia, was subjected to frequent raids by 
renegades from this section, who, at the outbreak of the war, 
had taken refuge on Staten Island, a settlement notoriously hos- 
tile to the American cause. 

Washington, in retreating from New York, made his head- 
quarters at Morristown, echelonging his small and ill-provided 
army along the foot hills, where his men suffered incredible hard- 
ships, not only from exposure to the long period of intense cold 
weather, but from the lack of food, difficult of procurement on 
account of the great depth of snow that covered the earth. 

On the night of January 25, 1780, a British force of infantry 
and cavalry, numbering five hundred men, crossed Staten Island 
sound on the ice, at Trembley's Point, and succeeded in enter- 
ing the town by two different roads, before the small guard of 
Americans, supposed to be on duty, was aware of its advance. 
The raid was a complete surprise. The British dragoons in 
their dash, killed and wounded several Americans, and captured 
the others, most of whom were in bed. Among the prisoners 



44 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

taken were Major Eccles, of the Fifth Maryland Regiment, and 
a Virginia colonel. 

On retiring the elated enemy set fire to the court house and 
the First Presbyterian Church adjoining. Both structures being 
of wood, were rapidly consumed. The court house and grounds 
attached had been used during the war as a place of confinement 
for prisoners of war. 

General Washington, highly incensed at the conduct of the 
Southern troops thus surprised and captured, ordered an investi- 
gation of "the late misfortune and disgrace at Elizabethtown," 
as he classified the event. 

Knyphausen, in command of the British forces in and about 
New York, was busily engaged all the spring in preparing for a 
formidable invasion of this state. He boasted to the English 
governor (Robertson) of New York, that when the weather con- 
ditions permitted he would cross over to New Jersey and cap- 
ture or expel from its soil the rebel army, which he knew to be 
reduced not only in numbers, but to dire extremity. With the 
great power of the British government behind him, granting 
his every wish, Knyphausen was .given carte blanche in selecting 
a force which he was confident would prove itself equal to any 
emergency. The first commands that had been brought to this 
country were chosen — among them a squadron of dragoons, 
known as the "Queen's Rangers," and the famous Coldstream 
Guards, which some years afterwards made themselves immortal 
by desperate fighting at Waterloo. 

Knyphausen, determined to leave nothing undone to ensure 
the success of the expedition on which he had centered every 
hope, selected as commanders of his brigades General Edward 
Mathew, General Sterling and General Tryon, whom he con- 
sidered his ablest subordinates. To them was entrusted the 
command of the three divisions, into which he divided his force 
of between 6,000 and 7,000 men. To Sterling, the youngest and 
most active and promising general, he confided the advance 
column. 

On the first of June this chosen corps, which had rendez- 
voused in Battery Park some days before, began to embark on 
vessels assembled off the Battery for that purpose, and a day or 
two afterwards the ships sailed for Staten Island, landing the 
troops on the eastern shore, from which point they leisurely 
marched across the island to the high land opposite what is now 
Elizabeth Avenue, where, going into camp, they remained until 
the night of June 6, when the column took up its line of march 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. AS 

over the intervening salt meadows and crossed the sound on a 
pontoon bridge previously laid. 

Colonel Elias Dayton, who had been stationed here for some 
time with his Third New Jersey Regiment, occupying the bar- 
racks on Cherry Street, had witnessed the arrival of the redcoats 
on the western slope of Staten Island, and sent intelligence to 
Washington, who was still at Morristown. Determined to resist 
the British advance as long as possible, on the night of the sixth 
he posted a small force of sharpshooters at the junction of Old 
and New Point Roads (now Union Square), with instructions 
to lie in ambush and fire upon the British advance when near 
enough to make their shots effective. The gallant and watchful 
colonel told his men to retreat when such a step became neces- 
sary, and fall back to Broad Street, where he would await them. 

It was only when Aurora began gilding the morn on the 
fateful seventh of June that this band, impatient during the long 
night and longing for the day, first heard the beating of horses' 
hoofs and the rattle of accoutrements, and shortly after saw a 
dark mass advancing up Old Point Road (now First Avenue). 
With fast-beating hearts and heavy flint-lock muskets well 
primed, the American piquet, secreted in the underbrush, anxious- 
ly bided the time for action. These brave farmer boy soldiers 
fully realized the desperate undertaking in which they had cheer- 
fully engaged, and were cognizant of the futility of any act which 
they felt competent of performing, but, alive to the importance 
of obeying orders, and intent on dealing a blow, however ineffec- 
tive, to the insolent invader of their homes, they gladly perilled 
their lives in thus boldly attacking an army of trained warriors. 

Unconscious of danger, the British general — Sterling — rode 
proudly in the van, his bright sword and golden helmet glittering 
in the early sunlight. No thought of a lingering and painful 
death disturbed the serenity of his mind — no shadow of fear 
crossed his handsome face, as, mounted upon a prancing and 
gaily-caparisoned steed, he made his way along the quiet road, 
burdened by deathlike stillness. 

"Fire!" rang out the clarion-like voice of Ensign Moses 
Ogden, an Elizabethtown boy of nineteen years, and the next 
instant, from the brazen muzzles of thirteen muskets poured 
forth a sheet of flame and death-dealing missiles into the serried 
ranks of the invading host, the proud and haughty general — 
Sterling — being unhorsed by a ghastly wound in his right thigh. 
(He was removed to the house now occupied by the Old Womens' 
Home on East Jersey Street, and subsequently conveyed to New- 
York, where he died one year later). 



46 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

What was regarded as the killing of their general, together 
with the wounding of several horsemen, threw the dragoons into 
a state of panic, and much confusion resulted. This afforded 
time for the Americans to reload and fire again, which they lost 
no time in doing, then fled up what is now Elizabeth Avenue to 
Broad Street, where Colonel Dayton, who had impatiently awaited 
them, complimented Ensign Ogden and his comrades upon their 
gallant behavior and the efficiency of their effort. Young Ogden 
was heartily greeted by the regiment, and lustily cheered when 
Colonel Dayton announced what he had done. Sad to relate, 
before the sun went down behind our western hills that day, the 
heroic ensign sealed his devotion to his country and the cause 
of liberty with his life's blood, being instantly killed in the battle 
at Connecticut Farms (now Union) late in the afternoon, a ball 
passing through his intrepid heart. 

Colonel Dayton, with a portion of his regiment, made a 
stand at Broad Street and Elizabeth Avenue, having previously 
posted four companies at Broad and Jersey Streets to guard and 
protect his retreat. He feared the enemy might attempt a flank- 
ing movement by way of East Jersey Street, but the British com- 
mander kept his column intact, and made no diversions. 

The British column, having reformed after the unlooked-for 
attack at Union Square, resumed its advance up Water Street 
the dragoons having been superceded in the task of leading, by 
the Coldstream Guards, who moved forward with circumspection 

When Colonel Dayton found that British infantry had been 
assigned to lead the column, he delegated a number of sharp- 
shooters to cover his retreat, with instructions to annoy the 
advancing host and retard its advance as long as possible. The 
riflemen detailed for this hazardous duty, while slowly and sul- 
lenly retiring, fired as opportunity offered from every available 
covert — trees along the highways affording them excellent pro- 
tection. It was from this vantage that many Britons reddened 
our soil with their blood on this momentous day. This resistance 
while delaying the march of the enemy, gave time to rally the 
militiamen in this section, who were temporarily at home attend- 
ing affairs on their farms, and it aided Washington in getting 
his army together to march south to meet the invading host. But 
it was nearly dark when Washington reached the Short Hills 
with the main body of his force, and learning of the repulse of 
the enemy at Connecticut Farms and the bridge near Springfield 
he went into camp to prepare for what he considered might be 
an issue on the following day. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 47 

Colonel Dayton retired from Elizabethtown by way of West 
Jersey Street and the Galloping Hill Road, northwesterly to Con- 
necticut Farms, his rear guard contesting every foot of the way 
At Galloping Hill there was a spirited fight, but the overpowering 
numbers of the enemy speedily drove the Americans from the 
untenable position, and the retreat was continued to the West 
branch of the Elizabethtown River, where two companies of 
Dayton's regiment, having chosen an admirable position, wel- 
comed a score and more of the enemy to hospitable graves. 

Meantime General Maxwell, to whose brigade Colonel Day- 
ton's regiment belonged, had deployed his command in a semi- 
circle on the highest ground northeast of the church, his left 
flank resting on the Vauxhall Road, near what is now "Ye old 
Meeker Inn," his extreme right being at the junction of the two 
roads leading north and west. A few hundred feet from this 
point stood a small frame house, in which lived in fancied security 
the patriot wife of Chaplain Caldwell of Dayton's regiment 
Mrs. Caldwell, who had no fear in her soul, after serving a 
British soldier with refreshments, was cruelly murdered by the 
fiend who had enjoyed her hospitality. 

General Maxwell had taken the position above described, in 
order to guard the two roads leading north to Springfield, and 
thus prevent the enemy from separating his force from Wash- 
ington. 

The fight at the branch southeast of the church was well- 
contested, and continued for three long hours, when the Ameri- 
cans, threatened by a flank movement, gave way, and joined 
General Maxwell on the hill, half mile away. The entire Ameri- 
can force present numbered less than fifteen hundred men, and 
being without artillery, and no reinforcements in sight, General 
Maxwell began his retreat towards Springfield, harassing the 
enemy as opportunity presented itself. 

But it was at the bridge over the Rahway River, which 
crosses Morris Avenue, at the foot of Prospect Hill, half a mile 
from Springfield, that the severest fighting of the day took place 
Although the British brought all their artillery into requisition 
and maintained a steady fire during the latter part of the after- 
noon, the Americans withstood the bombardment with heroic gal- 
lantry, and by a withering fire from muskets and rifles, and a small 
iron field piece, succeeded in blocking the further advance of a 
powerful foe. 

Finding his efforts balked, and learning just before night- 
fall that Washington, with a large force, was hurriedly advanc- 



48 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

ing, Knyphausen sounded a cessation of hostilities, and reforming, 
his dispirited men under cover of darkness, which now enshrouded 
the earth, commenced a hasty retrograde movement. 

When the baffled foe reached the Farms village on their 
return, they plundered every dwelling, a dozen or so in number, 
and fired the structures after every portable article had been 
removed therefrom. The Presbyterian Church building, a frame 
structure, did not escape the incendiary's torch, and was totally 
destroyed. It is recorded that Governor Robertson, of New 
York, who accompanied Knyphausen on this expedition, in the 
expectancy of witnessing the capture of General Washington 
participated in the hellish work, and profited by a share of the 
ill-gotten plunder. 

Amid Stygian darkness, relieved only by vivid flashes of 
lightning and burning buildings along the road, Knyphausen 
"the drowsy tyrant by his minions led," succeeded in reaching 
the lower part of Elizabethtown at daybreak next morning — his 
men drenched to the skin, covered with mud, exhausted, depressed 
in spirits, and in a highly demoralized state. The discomfited 
British evidently felt they had justly incurred God's wrath by 
their crimes, and regarded the pouring rain, the lightning's flashes 
and the loud-pealing thunder as admonitions from on high. The 
lightning on this occasion is described by a German officer present 
as "having frightened the horses" and "deprived the soldiers of 
sight for a time." 

Learning of the close pursuit by the Americans, who, despite 
the raging storm, were in an exhilarating mood over their victory. 
Knyphausen posted a battalion of "Yagers," armed with heavy 
rifles, in a grove on Water Street (near what is now Reid 
Street), supporting them with the 22d Regiment, a crack organi- 
zation, and a battery of light artillery, at the junction of Old and 
New Point Roads, now Union Square. A brigade of Hessians, 
including the famous Coldstream Guards, and a squadron of 
heavy dragoons, went into bivouac on a knoll below Rickett's 
farm, near what is now Liberty Square at Third Street, with a 
view of lending support in case of attack. With these disposi- 
tions, considered ample, the British commander deployed the 
remainder of his army in a northeasterly direction, and almost 
parallel with the sound, the line being extended as far as Crane's 
Ferry (near the location of the Singer factory). A considerable 
body of dragoons was posted on the extreme right flank, guarding 
the New Point Road. The British, in this position, possessed 
superior advantages, enjoying, as they did, admirable cover in 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 49 

the old earthworks constructed early in the war by the Ameri- 
cans, and having their right flank further guarded by an impene- 
trable marsh on the salt meadows, while its extreme left was 
efficiently protected by British gunboats on the sound just above 
the mouth of the Elizabeth River. 

General Hand, in command of a brigade of the American 
army, was stationed near Springfield, guarding the approaches 
to the Short Hills. Unable to reach the "Farms" in time to 
participate in the glorious battle of the previous day, he and his 
men burned for an opportunity to pursue and punish the dastard 
foe. General (Lord) Stirling, his immediate commander, having 
been informed that the enemy, in a demoralized condition, had 
recrossed the sound to Staten Island, leaving but a small force on 
this side, acceded to General Hand's importunacy, and directed 
him to proceed with his brigade of riflemen and a battalion of 
militiamen to Elizabethtown, and "bring up those fellows at the 
point." 

Despite the rain, which fell in torrents, the gallant Americans 
received the order with cheers which awoke echoes among the 
grand old hills, and promptly commenced the march to the town, 
over rough and heavy roads, making the task difficult and fatigu- 
ing, yet not a murmur was heard in that loyal band. Every man 
was eager to meet a foe capable of any enormity, even to the 
cold-blooded murder of defenceless women, and with the killing 
of Mrs. Caldwell uppermost in their minds, the heroic Continen- 
tals pressed forward to avenge that patriot woman's death. 

And thus ingloriously ended Knyphausen's much-vaunted 
and first attempt to penetrate New Jersey, by which he had fondly 
hoped to reach the American lines at Morristown, and capture or 
destroy the small force encamped there. But the haughty Hes- 
sian hireling, so confident in the morning of destroying the patriot 
army, finding himself thwarted in his design by a handful of 
American farmer boys, was compelled to beat a disastrous retreat 
under cover of Cimmerian darkness, in the midst of a drenching 
rain-storm, accompanied by fearful lightning and thunder, tc 
retrace his wretched and weary way to the point from which 
eighteen hours before, he had started under the most auspicious 
circumstances, with all the pomp and panoply of war. 



50 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



BATTLE OF ELIZABETHTOWN. 

GENERAL HAND entered Elizabethtown at about seven 
o'clock on the morning of the eighth by two different 
roads — his columns forming a junction at the corner of 
Broad and Water Streets, where a small outpost piquet of the 
enemy was surprised and captured by a dash of his ill-mounted 
troopers who had the advance. 

Ascertaining from citizens and scouts that a strong force of 
the enemy was entrenched at the Cross Roads (Union Square). 
General Hand divided his command into three separate columns 
and resumed his march towards the "Point," proceeding cau- 
tiously down Water Street. Almost absolute silence prevailed— 
nothing being heard save the irregular tread of the men. When 
near the tannery of that staunch patriot, Timothy Ogden, a lineal 
descendant of John Ogden, one of the most influential founders 
of this town, the head of column, received a volley from the 
"Yagers," lying in ambush in a grove at what is now Elizabeth 
Avenue and Reid Street, which caused some confusion among 
the Continentals. W r hile General Hand was making dispositions 
to resist attack, the "Yagers" took to their heels, fleeing across 
the fields in the direction of the Cross Roads — shots from the 
Americans adding to their terror and greatly accelerating their 
flight. It afforded merriment to the farmer boys to witness the 
celerity with which the trained troops of Britain ran after deliver- 
ing a volley, which, happily, proved harmless. 

A careful reconnoissance satisfied General Hand that the 
British occupied a strong position at the Cross Roads, and that 
the utmost caution on his part would be necessary to avoid disas- 
ter. He accordingly despatched one column to make a detour 
through the thick undegrowth to the left, and on gaining the 
New Point Road, to bear down upon the right flank of the enemy's 
position. Another column, the smallest of the three, was directed 
to proceed to the right, and threaten the British left and rear. 

General Hand, after witnessing the departure of the two 
flanking detachment?, formed the remainder of his force into a 
column of attack, and while waiting the lapse of sufficient time 
to enable the two columns to gain the desired points for co-opera- 
tion, addressed his men, exhorting them to pay attention to orders, 
keep cool, as at Monmouth, and, above all, not to waste ammuni- 
tion. The Americans, impatient of delay, could hardly be re- 
strained from dashing forward upon the earthwork, now in plain 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 51 

view, and but a few hundred yards in their immediate front. The 
]ong-expected command, "Forward," was at length quietly given, 
and with steady step the assaulting column pressed down Water 
Street towards the common goal. It was evident to all that the 
enemy were fully prepared to receive them, yet not a man faltered 
— each felt the responsibility resting upon him — all were eager 
for the fray. 

The British commander, who had been on the alert since 
first learning of the advance of the patriot army, while confident 
of his ability to hold the position assigned him, had apprised 
Knyphausen of the approach of the Americans, and of the threat- 
ened attack, and had asked that reinforcements might be kept in 
readiness to assist him in the event of his inability to withstand 
assault. From the redoubt the British commandant saw the cau- 
tious advance of the Americans, for whose reception he had made 
every preparation in his power. He had carefully trained his 
artillery to rake the road at the foot of the knoll (where Smith 
Street now intersects Elizabeth Avenue), and with lighted 
matches his cannoneers stood ready to obey his bidding, and hurl 
a storm of iron hail upon the advancing patriots. 

The crucial moment came at last, when the stillness of that 
summer morning was broken by the booming of British artillery 
and the rattle of small arms. The road (Elizabeth Avenue) 
along which the Americans were making their way, was ploughed 
by cannon balls, whose hissing would have been sufficient to ap- 
pall the hearts of others than patriots determined to punish the 
cruel invader and drive him from the soil so dear to them. With 
compressed lips and firm tread the Continentals pressed forward 
only halting when they reached the foot of the knoll, about one 
hundred yards from the breastworks. It was from this point the 
centre column opened fire upon the redoubt. 

Meantime General Hand had received no tidings from either 
of his detached columns, and finding the enemy too strongly 
posted decided it would be fatal to storm the British position 
without their co-operation. Passing and repassing his thin line, 
General Hand, momentarily expecting to hear of the success of 
the flanking parties, encouraged his lion-hearted men to hold their 
ground and be ready to spring forward upon the works when the 
opportune moment arrived. The American commander watched 
with impatience for some signal from his absent detachments, 
that he might at the proper moment rush forward and secure 
the prize he had hoped was within his reach. 

Directly, the British slackened their fire, having observed the 



52 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

rapid advance of the Americans along the New Point Road, from 
the direction of Jersey Street. As this movement jeopardized 
their safety, the British hastily limbered their guns, and fled pre- 
cipitately to the rear, across the fields and down Old Point Road 
towards the water. The two American columns entered the 
deserted earthwork at the same moment, the men cheering wildly 
over the success achieved. 

Without waiting for the arrival of his third column, which 
he had not heard from, General Hand ordered a pursuit of the 
fleeing enemy, and a movement was made as far as Sixth Street, 
where a halt was made, owing to the approach of a large force 
up New Point Road. Finding himself largely outnumbered, the 
American commander retrograded to the Cross Roads, where he 
awaited the arrival of his right flanking column, which an aide- 
de-camp finally found endeavoring to make its way out of a dan- 
gerous morass in the vicinity of where the gas company's property 
now is on Fourth Avenue. 

General Hand, having united his columns, and finding him- 
self unable to successfully cope with the large force now being 
brought up to assail him, retired up Water Street, and so from 
the town, his rear being well protected by his riflemen. The 
British, however, were brought to a standstill where the Elizabeth 
River crosses West Jersey Street, and thus ended the second 
battle of Elizabethtown. 

THE SECOND BATTLE OF SPRINGFIELD. 

NEW JERSEY, sandwiched between the states of New York 
and Pennsylvania, and particularly Elizabethtown, con- 
tiguous to a large British army encamped for a long time 
on Staten Island, suffered more from the enemy's depredations 
during eight years of the revolutionary war than any other section 
of the country. The most important battles and engagements 
were fought in this state, and Elizabethtown came in for more 
than a full share of the trouble. 

Soldiers born in and about this town, including Colonel Aaron 
Burr, whose after life was made miserable by selfish and design- 
ing men, participated in almost every engagement from Quebea 
to Yorktown. They were at Trenton, Princeton and Monmouth : 
they accompanied General Benedict Arnold on his perilous march 
to Canada, and were at Ticonderoga, and in the disastrous battle 
on Long Island. They took part in the storming and capture of 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 53 

Stony Point, and were rewarded for their valor there by General 
Washington, who presented them with a beautiful brass field piece 
which the English captured from the French at the fall of Que- 
bec. Elizabethtown boys opened the battle of Brandywine, and 
distinguished themselves shortly after at the battle of German- 
town. They passed the long and trying winter of 1777-78 at 
Valley Forge, many of them without shoes, and none with suf- 
ficient clothing. They charged fiercely at Monmouth under the 
noble Lafayette, a fact he well remembered and stated when he 
made a visit to Elizabethtown in 1824, receiving an ovation from 
our people. In 1779 nearly two regiments of Elizabethtown boys 
marched up the Susquehanna to avenge the massacre of whites 
by Seneca Indians in the Wyoming Valley of Pennsylvania. 

No organization of American soldiers fought on so many 
fields during the revolution as General William Maxwell's brigade 
of the "Jersey Line," composed chiefly of men, young and old 
who claimed birthright in and about this town, which, I may add, 
embraced a large extent of territory, including the villages of 
Connecticut Farms, Springfield and Newark. 

In a previous chapter I described the battle of Elizabethtown 
— June 7-8, 1780 — concluding with the enforced retirement of 
the defeated British army within its works along the water front 
on the evening of June 8. The British suffered severely both 
days, but concluding to make another attempt to penetrate Wash- 
ington's lines at and beyond the Short Hills, north of Springfield 
when circumstances became more propitious, it remained on this 
side of Staten Island sound. The boat pontoon across the sound 
laid on the evening of the sixth, was kept intact, and thoroughly 
guarded during the occupancy of the town by the enemy. 

General Knyphausen, commanding the British columns in 
the battles on the 7th and 8th, had proven such a "magnificent 
failure" as a leader that he was superceded in command by Sir 
Henry Clinton, who no more understood the character and ability 
of the American volunteer soldier than his predecessor, though 
he had witnessed their brilliant valor at Brandywine and on the 
glorious field of Monmouth. 

Clinton secured more artillery (having no less than half a 
dozen field batteries) and additional men, and being fully pre- 
pared for an advance to the mountains, broke camp just after 
midnight on the morning of Friday, June 23, and marched rapidly 
and silently through this town by way of First Avenue, Elizabeth 
Avenue, and West Jersey Street, and thence northwest on the 
road over Galloping Hill to Connecticut Farms, the scene of the 



54 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

recent defeat by our farmers, where, as the lovely day was just 
beaming, shots were fired that initiated the battle of Springfield, 
one of the best contested and spirited engagements of the war. 

By this time the surrounding country had been thoroughly 
aroused by the sullen booming of a large cannon and the blazing 
of tar barrels at the signal station on Prospect Hill, near Spring- 
field. These dread alarms summoned the militiamen from their 
homes, at which they were permitted to remain when no dangei 
threatened, and they hastened to the various rendezvous with 
rifle, bullet pouch and powder horn in hand. Not a man in this 
section shirked duty that day. Some, too infirm to walk, mounted 
horses and dashed to the point of danger. All were anxious tc 
again confront the hated Briton and contribute to his expulsion 
They bitterly remembered the cruel murder of the sainted Mrs, 
Caldwell, a few days previous, as well as the burning of the church 
and their homes at Connecticut Farms, and were eager to take 
part in the fray, and drive back the haughty invader, the despoiler 
of their firesides. 

When the British commander reached the Farms he divided 
his force, sending one column to the right by way of the Vauxhall 
Road, running north through Headleytown to Milburn, to 
threaten the left flank of the Americans, posted in the principal 
pass over the Short Hills, while the other column was despatched 
to the left, taking the narrow road running north till it intersects 
what is now Morris Avenue, a mile and more this side of the 
Rahway River, and half a mile from the village of Springfield. 

Major-General Greene, one of Washington's trusted lieu- 
tenants, in supreme command of the American forces at Short 
Hills, had placed Colonel Matthias Ogden's First New Jersey 
Regiment (Elizabethtowners), Captain George Walker's riflemen 
of the Second New Jersey Regiment, and Lieut. Colonel Harry 
Lee's ("Light Horse Harry" of Virginia) Famous Legion, in 
which more than one hundred New Jerseymen gallantly served 
during the war, at Littell's Bridge on the Vauxhall Road, to 
resist the advance of the British in that direction. 

To Colonel Elias Dayton's Third New Jersey Regiment 
and Colonel Angell's Rhode Island Battalion, with a small field 
piece, was entrusted the main defence of the village. Colonel 
Dayton, ranking officer on this part of the field, stationed his com- 
mand at the wooden bridge spanning the Rahway River, a few 
hundred yards this side of Springfield, and a smaller force under 
Colonel Israel Shreve, Second New Jersey Regiment, at the bridge 
over a small stream, at the north end of the village. Colonel Day- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 55 

ton, while impatiently awaiting the approach of the enemy, took 
the precaution to remove the planks from the two bridges. This 
was a wise proceeding, as it delayed the final advance of the 
British, while getting their artillery across the stream, greatly 
swollen on account of a rain-storm a day or two previously. 

Meanwhile the British column on the Vauxhall Road, unable 
to dislodge Colonel Ogden's command at Littell's Bridge, where a 
stubborn fight took place, in which "Light Horse Harry" made 
repeated charges with his dashing horsemen, moved to the right 
and, completely flanking Ogden's position, compelled his retire- 
ment. 

When Sir Henry Clinton, who was with the main column on 
Morris avenue, learned of this success, he moved his serried line 
over a hill against Colonel Dayton's insignificant force at the 
bridge. Clinton covered this movement with a fierce cannonad- 
ing, no less than fifteen pieces being thus employed on the rising 
ground three hundred yards south of the bridge. 

Despite this formidable array of the enemy, and the constant 
blazing of their artillery, Colonel Dayton's brave Elizabethtowners 
and Angell's heroic Rhode Islanders, posted along the right bank 
of the river, where the trees afforded excellent cover, maintained 
their position, and kept the trained Britons at a respectful dis- 
tance for nearly an hour. The small field piece possessed by the 
Americans, planted on what is now known as "Battle Hill," did 
good execution, and added greatly to the torment of the British 
commander, who was surprised at the tenacity and intrepidity of 
the little band of Americans. It was at this point that the chief 
fighting occurred, and it was only when the ammunition of the 
Americans was nearly expended, and a flanking movement on the 
part of the enemy was being carried out, that the greatly out- 
numbered patriots gave way, falling back slowly through the 
village, taking their dead and wounded along. 

There is a pretty legend that while the battle was in progress 
the Elizabethtown boys being short of wadding for their flintlock 
muskets. Rev. Mr. Caldwell the patriotic chaplain of Colonel 
Dayton's regiment, ran to the Presbyterian Church in the heart 
of the village, and gathering some hymn books, hastened back 
and distributing them among his comrades, said: "Now, boys ( 
put Watts into them." 

The British pursued the retreating Americans through the 
village and some little distance beyond, but on learning that 
Washington was advancing with a strong force, Sir Henry halted 
and smarting under the disgrace of his defeat by less than 1,00C 



56 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

farmer boys, for the time being militiamen, he eased his con- 
science by giving the village up to pillage, a work in which his 
followers were adepts. Before quitting the village the enemy 
set fire to the frame church edifice and nineteen dwelling houses, 
which, together with outbuildings, were totally consumed. The 
humane Sir Henry was induced to spare four houses, occupied 
by his wounded. 

The British, in their hurried retreat back to this town, were 
closely followed by our brave militiamen, who frequently am- 
bushed the dispirited foe, killing and wounding many by the way- 
side. The survivors entered the town in great disorder at sunset 
and after a brief stop within their earthworks at the "Point," 
crossed the sound. When daylight came nothing was to be seen 
of the Britons or the pontoon bridge. 

The reader must remember that all the engagements, from 
the 7th to the 23d of June, took place within the territorial limits 
of Elizabethtown, and that nearly all the men who so often bared 
their breasts to the storm of war, were natives of this section — 
men who cheerfully left their everyday occupation and firesides 
when summoned to field duty. The yeomanry of New Jersey 
served without pay, and provided for their own necessities, even 
to furnishing themselves with arms and ammunition. Their 
heroism, sacrifices and brilliant services should never be forgotten. 

If there is a town in all this broad land of ours that is rich 
in the memories of the past, rich in the traditions of "Auld Lang 
Syne," rich in the fealty which she has ever shown towards the 
state and national governments, it is the fair city of Elizabeth, 
the resting place of the martyred Caldwell and his sainted wife, 
of the heroic Ogdens, Spencer, Daytons and Barber, and of the 
old home of the victor of Lundy's Lane. 

The patriots of Elizabethtown, from July, 1776, to the latter 
part of 1781, suffered more from the depredations of British and 
tory marauders than the people of any other section. The town 
during those five terrible years, lying contiguous to the British 
army which occupied Staten Island, was subjected to almost 
constant predatory incursions, some of which were attended by 
great barbarities. Infants, children, old men and women were 
left naked and exposed, and furniture, which the raiders were 
unable to carry away, was wantonly destroyed ; dwellings and 
out-buildings burned or rendered uninhabitable; churches and 
public buildings consumed, and the most fiendish outrages per- 
petrated upon women and even very young girls. 

I believe these horrors had much to do with the failure of the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 57 

British soldiery to establish itself in this country, for had the 
enemy paid for the supplies taken, and respected the rights of the 
people, the cause of independence might have been lost. The 
ruthless outrages of the enemy had the effect of arousing intense 
indignation and embittered the people, who rose in their majesty 
to repeal the invaders and revenge their personal injuries. 

A resume of the leading incidents occurring in Elizabeth- 
town during the war may be of interest: 

1775. 

Monday, May 8, members of Congress from Massachusetts. 
Connecticut and New York, en route to Philadelphia, were met 
this side of Newark by many Elizabethtown gentlemen mounted, 
and escorted through the town to Rahway. The distinguished 
party received an ovation here. 

The Provincial Congress of New Jersey convened here May 
27. William Livingston and John DeHart, of this town, were 
the first representatives of New Jersey in Congress. They were 
re-elected the following year. 

July 17, the Town Committee forwarded to Washington at 
Cambridge, Mass., fifty-two casks of gunpowder, purchased in 
Philadelphia, and in August the committee sent on nearly seven 
tons additional. It was carried in rack-riggings, covered with 
hay, to allay suspicion. 

July 17, the Town Committee resolved to re-establish com- 
mercial intercourse with the people of Staten Island, they having 
pledged themselves to prove true to the cause of American lib- 
erty. The compact was broken by the Islanders the moment the 
British army landed on their soil, July 2, 1776. 

October 4, sixteen companies of infantry and one of horse, 
belonging to the town, which then included the greater part of 
what is now Union County, were reviewed on the parade-ground 
on Broad Street. In 1868 a patriotic city council shamefully 
surrendered this public space to the First Presbyterian Church 
congregation, which it imprisoned within a high iron fence. 

October 9, Congress issued its first call for troops from New 
Jersey, and three regiments of eight companies each were 
promptly organized. Two of these commands were composed 
of Elizabethtown men. The First Regiment was commanded 
by Lord Stirling, the Third regiment by Colonel Elias Dayton. 
The men were enlisted for one year at $5 per month, and each 
private, instead of a bounty, was allowed one felt hat, a pair of 



58 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

yarn stockings, and a pair of shoes. Each man had to supply 
himself with arms. 

In November Congress established a recruiting station here 
and Willism Alexander (titular), Earl of Stirling, residing at 
Baskingridge, came down here and organized the First New Jer- 
sey Regiment of volunteers. 

1776. 

January 22, Colonel Stirling, with thirty men of his regiment, 
and Colonel Dayton, with one hundred volunteers of his Third 
Regiment, went to Perth Amboy (the latter party in boats), and 
next morning captured the British ship, "Blue Mountain Valley," 
just in from England with a valuable cargo. The prize was 
brought to this town and the cargo sold, the proceeds being 
divided among the brave fellows who engaged in the undertaking. 

February 5, Colonel Stirling marched to New York City 
with four companies of his regiment. 

March 1, Colonel Stirling was promoted brigadier-general. 

February 3, Abraham Ogden was appointed lieutenant-colo- 
nel of a regiment of light horsemen raised in this section. 

February 10, General Livingston, commander-in-chief of 
militia, sent three hundred Elizabethtown minute-men over to the 
eastern shcre of Staten Island to resist a threatened landing there 
of British troops under Sir Henry Clinton, just arrived from 
Boston. Sir Henry, seeing our farmer boys along the shore 
thought it advisable to postpone his landing, and sailed away. 

In March, Elizabethtowners commenced to throw up earth- 
works along the water-front, and shortly after Congress called 
upon this town to equip a battalion for service in Canada. Abra- 
ham Clark who signed the immortal Declaration of Indepen- 
dence, replied: "If all the congresses upon the continent required 
us to disarm ourselves at present, unless we are deemed dangerous 
to liberty, I would not obey." The situation here at this moment 
was critical, and our people acted wisely in husbanding every 
resource. In fact, the want of proper arms was most seriously 
felt by those who had enlisted. 

March 24, Colonel Dayton marched his regiment to New 
York for the defence of that city. 

In June, anticipating the speedy disembarkation of the re- 
cently-arrived British army from England and the continent 
General Livingston ordered the removal of live stock from Staten 
Island, and a force of light horsemen and militiamen went over 
and brought the cattle to this town. The tories on the Island 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 59 

whose hearts were ever with the British, objected to the pro- 
ceeding, but their wishes were disregarded. Staten Island was 
intensely disloyal to the American cause throughout the war 
and for a long time afterwards. 

July 2, the British landed on the eastern shore of Staten 
Island, and next day marched over to this side. Their appear- 
ance on the hills greatly excited the inhabitants of this town, so 
much so that two young men, on the Fourth, crossed the sound 
in a canoe and discharged their rifles at the red-coats. They 
jeturned in safety, although pursued by the enemy. 

July 4, General Livingston wrote Washington that breast- 
works had been thrown up from Elizabeth River, northward, as 
far as where the Singer factory is now located, and that he had 
mounted therein two field pieces, with a portion of Captain 
Daniel Neill's company of artillery. During the evening of the 
fourth a Biitish sloop of war came to the Point, and was destroyed 
by Neill's guns, the first to be fired after the adoption of the 
Declaration of Independence. 

July 10, nine Elizabethtown riflemen crossed the sound in a 
boat and attacked a force of British soldiers engaged in throw- 
ing up a breastwork on the meadows. One, with a venture- 
some spirit, advanced alone upon the British force and demand- 
ed its surrender. A ball through his head was the only response. 
His comrades beat a retreat, leaving the body behind. In the 
afternoon Colonel Smith, commanding here, sent over to the 
Island for the body, which the British officer kindly surrendered 
together with the dead soldier's rifle and all his accoutrements 

July 18, General Mercer came here from Amboy to make 
an attack on Staten Island. He took along 1,300 men and in- 
tended crossing the sound at Thompson's Creek, opposite the 
Blazing Star, but as he was on the point of embarking his force 
in boats a tremendous storm of lightning and thunder came up 
suddenly, compelling him to abandon the enterprise. 

August 25, Captain Neill's artillery, posted at the foot of 
Elizabeth avenue, where he destroyed the British gunboat on the 
night of the fourth, opened on the enemy in the afternoon, the 
British replying vigorously. 

August 31, General Livingston was chosen the first governor 
of New Jersey. He served with great satisfaction to the people 
from 1776 to 1790 — 14 years — the longest term any governor of 
this state ever had. 

September 24, four vessels arrived here with 420 American 
soldiers taken prisoners at Quebec. They were under parole. 



OU HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

October 13, General Matthias Williamson, commanding the 
militia here, crossed to Staten Island with a considerable force, 
and had a sharp skirmish with the enemy, who compelled him to 
withdraw. 

November 21, owing to Washington's contemplated retreat 
through thf: state, all the families in Newark and Elizabeth moved 
their effects to the mountains. 

November 26, Colonel Jacob Ford, Jr., of Morris County 
came down here with all the militiamen he could gather. Each 
man had four days' rations, a gun, accoutrements and a blanket 

November 28, Washington, with 3,500 disheartened men^ 
entered this almost deserted town. After a brief rest, he con- 
tinued on to Trenton, which he reached December 2. 

December 2, Lord Cornwallis' powerful army reached here. 
He left a considerable force under command of General Leslie, 
and went on in pursuit of Washington. 

December 17, Major Oliver Spencer, of this town, assisted 
by Colonel Jacob Ford, Jr., administered a stunning defeat to 
General Leslie's 2,000 British regulars at Springfield. 

1777. 

January 6, General Maxwell came down here from the Short 
Hills, and drove a large force of Hessians out of Springfield 
Newark, and Elizabethtown, pursuing them to Spanktown (Rail- 
way), where he had a spirited fight for two hours, inflicting severe 
ioss on the enemy. In the engagement here General Maxwell 
captured thirty Hessians, fifty Highlanders and numerous wagons 
loaded with baggage. Thus, in a month, the enemy had been 
driven from New Jersey, and the hopes of the patriots rose high. 

February 27, Major Tympany came over here from Staten 
Island with sixty men, and after a sharp conflict at the cross- 
roads was compelled to flee. 

August 27, Colonel Matthias Ogden, commanding the First 
New Jersey, and Colonel Elias Dayton, commanding the 
Third New Jersey, joined General Sullivan's division here, and 
crossing to Staten Island, attacked Skinner's New Jersey Pro- 
vincials, posted along the western shore, from Decker's Ferry 
(Port Richmond), to Tottenville. Ogden and Dayton success- 
fully carried out the program assigned them, but the rest of Sul- 
livan's command lost heavily, owing to failure in finding boats in 
which to recross the sound. 

November 27, General Dickinson, commanding the militia 
here, with the approval of Washington, crossed the sound to 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 61" 

Staten Island during the night, and attacked Skinner's tories. 
Being outnumbered Dickinson retired, getting back here at noon 
next day, bringing a number of prisoners. Three royalists 
were captured and fourteen wounded. 

1778. 

Affairs were remarkably quiet in town during this year, and 
almost everybody occupied their homes and farms. 

December 1, General Washington, whose headquarters were 
at Bound Brook, came down here to review General Maxwell's 
New Jersey brigade. He remained five days, and was a guest of 
a number of our people. The occasion was made festive. 

1779. 

February 25, the 33d and 42d British Regiments and a com- 
pany of Horse Guards, under command of Lieut. Colonel Sterling 
from Long Island, landed near where the Singer factory now is 
and entered the town by way of New Point Road before their 
landing became known. The object of this expedition was tq 
effect the capture of Governor Livingston, upon whose precious 
head a high price had been set by high British officials. Major 
Aaron Ogden first discovered the presence of the enemy and gave 
an alarm, and at daybreak General Maxwell arrived and made a 
furions onslaught on the raiders, driving them through the town 
to their boats. Before Maxwell arrived, however, the British set 
fire to the First Church parsonage and barracks on Cherry Street 
and the public academy on Broad street. It was while pursuing 
the enemy along the New Point Road that a British soldier in 
ambush thrust a bayonet through the body of Major Aaron 
Ogden, from the effects of which he never recovered. 

1780. 

January 3, snow fell to a depth of five or six feet, while 
Staten Island and New York Bay were frozen to such solidity that 
horses and wagons could travel better on the ice than on the earth 

January 15, General William Irvine, with 2,500 men, includ- 
ing Colonel Dayton's regiment, crossed the sound on the ice, and 
attacked the enemy on Staten Island. The troops, despite the 
deep snow and intense cold, did much damage to the property 
of the Islanders, and returned next day at noon. Many of the men 
were badly frost-bitten. 

January 25, in retaliation for this raid, this town was invaded 
by a strong force of the enemy, which succeeded in entering the 



62 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

heart of the town about ten o'clock in the evening, before their 
advance was discovered. They captured fifty American soldiers, 
and before departing burned the First Presbyterian Church and 
Court House. Cornelius Hetfield, Jr., a native of the town, acting 
as a guide to the British, applied the torch to the sanctuary in 
which his aged father worshipped. 

February 10, a column of British, under Generals Skinner 
and Sterling, crossed the sound on the ice, and created dismay 
among our people. After plundering a number of houses, the 
enemy hastily withdrew, taking much plunder and a number of 
inoffensive citizens along as prisoners. 

The winter of 1779-80, passed in constant alarm and terror, 
was noted for the awful severity of the weather and the devasta^ 
tion of the merciless foe, aided by the renegade Hetfields, who 
fled to the British on Staten Island in 1776. 

1780. 

June 6, six thousand British regulars landed early in the 
evening at the "Point," now foot of Elizabeth Avenue. 

June 7, the enemy, under General Knyphausen, advanced up 
Old Point Road (now First Avenue), and were fired upon at the 
Cross Roads by an American piquet of thirteen farmer boys, 
posted there by Colonel Dayton. General Sterling, in command 
of the advance, was unhorsed by a shot fired by Ensign Moses 
Ogden, age 19 years. Sterling died from the wound a year later 
while young Ogden gave his life at Connecticut Farms during 
the battle there in the afternoon. The British force, after cruelly 
murdering Mrs. Caldwell, and burning the Presbyterian Church 
and a dozen dwelling houses, hastily retreated from the hamlet, 
re-entering this town early in the evening. They marched to 
the water front and took refuge in the earthworks there. A 
small force, however, was left at the Cross Roads, at the Junction 
of Old and New Point Roads. 

June 8, General Hand, who had followed the British from 
Connecticut Farms, entered the town at daybreak, and at once 
attacked the enemy at the Cross Roads, driving the detachment 
down First Avenue as far as Third Street, where it was rein- 
forced by Knyphausen's entire army. General Hand, finding him- 
self greatly outnumbered, and fearing a flanking movement, 
retreated by way of Elizabeth Avenue, Broad Street, and West 
Jersey Street. The British pursued the Americans to the Eliza- 
beth River, when they returned and occupied their former posi- 
tions. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 63 

The British remained here till the morning of June 23, when 
tinder the guidance of Sir Henry Clinton, the entire force, with 
additional field batteries, moved through the town, one column 
going westerly by way of Galloping Hill, the other northerly 
by the Vauxhall Road, to Springfield, where a severe battle took 
place, resulting in the defeat and precipitate retreat of the 
invaders. 

1781. 

During this year the town was almost constantly overrun by 
"Cow-boys" and other Staten Island thieves. They gave our peo- 
ple but little rest, and made their lives as wretched as possible. 
The raids were generally made on moonless nights. 

November 24, Rev. Mr. Caldwell, a chaplain in the Con- 
tinental army, was shot dead without provocation by a native of 
Ireland named Morgan, who had but recently joined the Ameri- 
can army for one year. The murder took place on a sloop lying 
at the wharf, foot of Elizabeth Avenue. Morgan, convicted 
of the foul crime, was subsequently hung at Westfield. 

1782. 

June 20, Major William Crane, of this town, with a party 
of thirty soldiers, rowed around to the east side of Staten Island, 
and captured two large whale boats, which had been fitted out 
for a piratical cruise. 

1783. 

Perhaps the last act in the eight years' drama was performed 
by Major William Crane, who, although a landsman, was equally 
at home on the water. With seven companions Major Crane 
embarked in a shallop on the evening of March 3, and sailed for 
New York City, where, off the Battery, he successively boarded 
and captured the British sloop-of-war "Katy" of twelve four- 
pounders, and the British ship "Eagle," mounting twenty-four 
guns. Major Crane, after the war, was mayor of this town. 



64 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

TERRORIZED WHOLE COMMUNITIES. 

THE most notorious characters in the eastern section of New 
Jersey during the greater part of the revolution were Cor- 
nelius Hetfield, Jr., and his brothers, Job and John Smith 
Hetfield, natives of Elizabethtown. The Hetfields, in 1778, be- 
coming haters of the patriots' cause, went about town, heavily 
armed, threatening the lives of all who condemned royalists. 
They took good care to make their threats during the absence of 
troops from the town, but shortly after, a number of citizens, who 
resolved to submit no longer to abuse from the Hetfields, got 
together and ordered them to leave the place. They were con- 
veyed to Staten Island, where they remained until the war was 
over. 

A few weeks after this their property was confiscated and 
sold at auction. 

The Hetfields, on reaching Staten Island, became active 
partisans tor the British, and neglected no opportunity to do 
injury to their former neighbors. 

Cornelius, the most daring and bitter of the two, guided 
the Thirty-third and Forty-second British Regiments, under 
Lieut.-Colonel Sterling, who landed on the night of February 24, 
1779, near where the Singer factory now stands, to the home of 
Governor Livingston, on Morris Avenue, hoping to effect his 
capture. 

Failing in this, the British, in the rage of their disappoint- 
ment, burned the barracks and Presbyterian parsonage on Cherry 
Street, and an hour afterwards destroyed the academy at Broad 
Street and Caldwell Place, where now stands the lecture room 
of the First Presbyterian Church. It is recorded that Hetfield 
"danced pbout the fire like a savage," so great was his glee over 
the wanton destruction. 

On the night of Saturday, June 12, 1779, Cornelius Hetfield. 
with five other banditti, crossed Staten Island Sound in a skiff, 
and, reaching the home of Lieutenant John Haviland, who lived 
near the water, surprised him in his bed, plundered the house of 
its contents and succeeded in recrossing the sound to the island 
in safety, taking Haviland and others along as prisoners. 

A few days after this it was discovered that the negroes in 
this town contemplated murdering all the white inhabitants, and 
many of them were arrested and punished. Three were burned 
at stakes. Cornelius Hetfield was one of the instigators of this 
conspiracy. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 65 

During the night of January 25, 1780, a strong British force 
from Staten Island crossed the sound on the ice at Tremley's 
Point, and entered the town before the few militiamen on guard 
here could sound an alarm. The Britons were piloted by Cor- 
nelius, Job and John Smith Hetfield. It is said that while the 
British wtie collecting cattle, Cornelius rode over to the home of 
his parents on Pearl Street and, after rudely awakening them 
swore he would not leave town until he had burned the First 
Presbyterian Church, of which congregation his aged father was 
a worthy elder. The renegade carried out his threat, applying 
the torch with his own hands to the hallowed structure. 

The court house building, a frame structure adjoining the 
church, was also set on fire and consumed. The British hur- 
riedly left town before daybreak, taking with them two majors, 
three captains and forty-seven privates. 

All is considered fair in war, but I must now narrate one of 
the blackest crimes perpetrated in this region during the entire 
war, for which no excuse can be offered. 

Cornelius and John Smith Hetfield and four boon com- 
panions, all natives of this town, captured Stephen Ball, of Rail- 
way, who visited Staten Island under assurance of protection, 
and escorted him to the headquarters of General Patterson, the 
British commander on Staten Island. This officer saw no evil 
in Ball, and refused to hold him. Hetfield, who hated Ball, then 
took him to General Skinner, who also refused to proceed against 
him. Hetfield alleged that Ball had aided in the execution in 
1779 of Thomas Long, a refugee from this state, but the two 
generals were not satisfied with the truth of Hetfield's charge, 
and ordered his release. 

This maddened the Hetfields, who took him across the sound 
to Bergen Point, and hung him to a tree without further cere- 
mony. 

John Smith Hetfield was captured at Westfield while steal- 
ing cattle, and sent under strong guard to the jail at Burlington 
where he was heavily ironed. He subsequently effected his 
escape, and George Hair, the jailor, was fined $3,000 for "letting 
him do so." After the war he was tried at Bergen Point for par- 
ticipation in the brutal murder of Stephen Ball, but was dis- 
charged on account of the "absence of material witnesses," and 
admitted to bail. He shortly after fled the country. 

Cornelius Hetfield, after peace had been declared, sailed 
for England, where he remained until 1808, when he came to 
Elizabethtown, to take charge of the Hetfield farm, bequeathed 



66 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

him by his father, to whom, by the way, he had been ungrateful. 
His return was no sooner learned than he was arrested and taken 
to the jail in Newark, where he was confined until his trial for 
being the principal murderer of Stephen Ball. 

Hetfield was able to secure the services of three of the ablest 
lawyers in the state — Colonel Aaron Ogden (ex-governor and 
ex-United States senator) and Isaac H. Williamson (afterwards 
governor), and William Chetwood. After an exhaustive trial 
Judge Pennington discharged Hetfield, declaring that "by the 
spirit of the treaty of 1783, he was not answerable for the 
transaction." 

Hetfield, thus escaping, returned to England, where he died 
at an advanced a??e. 



DELIGHTED TO PUNISH THE BRITISH. 

GENERAL WILLIAM CRANE, a native of Elizabeth- 
town, and its first mayor after the war, first saw service 
in Canada, whither he went with Aaron Burr and other 
town boys in the disastrous Montgomery expedition. He was 
appointed a lieutenant of an artillery company, and as such won 
a reputation as a fighter that lasted him through life. It was 
while his gun was doing good service at Quebec on that terribly 
stormy night — December 31, 1775 — that Lieutenant Crane re- 
ceived a wound in his left ankle, from a shot fired by the old gun 
now reposing on the Court House lawn, from the effects of which 
he died forty years later. 

"It was in March, 1783, long after a treaty of peace between 
England and this colony had been signed, and while the English 
soldiers were preparing to evacuate New York City, that Major 
Crane designed and successfully carried out one of the most dar- 
ing acts of the revolution. The major, owing to the ghastly 
wound received at Quebec, from which he never recovered, and 
unable to remain on active duty during the war, attached himself 
to the militia, or home-guard, and thus rendered good service. 
He had intense, burning hate for the English, and although 
peace had been declared, determined to deal a final blow to the 
enemy. It was the last act of hostility. 

The major called a number of boys together one evening 
and presented a plan for capturing or destroying a couple of 
English gunboats he knew to be anchored off the Battery in New 
York. Thinking it would be sport to engage in the enterprise. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 67 

six promptly offered to accompany the major and Captain "Bill" 
Ouigley on the expedition. 

Each armed with a cutlass and musket, they embarked in a 
whale boat early on the evening of March 3, and although the 
winds were strong, and the waters rough, before midnight they 
reached a point under a small island, within easy reach of the 
Battery, off which two vessels were at lazy anchor. 

It was here that Major Crane repeated his instructions, and 
all being prepared, with muffled oars they rowed to the nearest 
vessel, which proved to be the sloop "Katy," armed with twelve 
four-pound guns. It was but the work of a moment to leap 
upon the "Katy's" deck, which the men did the instant their craft 
reached its side, and before any alarm could be given by the 
single guard, stationed at the entrance to the captain's cabin 
he was seized and gagged. The rest was easy. The crew, num- 
bering forty, were surprised. After bucking and gagging the 
officers and crew, the major left two of his followers to guard 
the prisoners who were locked in the captain's cabin, and with 
Ouigley and the other four, rowed quietly to another vessel, close 
at hand, which they subsequently ascertained to be the sloop-of- 
war "Eagle," of twenty-four guns. 

The major had no difficulty in capturing the "Eagle," but as 
she was hard aground was compelled to leave her there, much 
to his regret. Major Crane, after transferring the crew and 
removing some valuables from the "Katy," thought of setting fire 
to the "Eagle," but afraid of pursuit by other war vessels close 
by and well satisfied with his success in taking the "Katy," he 
hoisted sail on that vessel, and as Aurora was casting his bright 
beams over the old town, sailed into the Kills, firing the "Katy's" 
guns as fast as his men could load them, alarming the inhabitants 
and making a din that had not been heard here in a long time 
Many people made haste to get down to the ferry at what is now 
the foot of Elizabeth avenue, wondering what could have occa- 
sioned such an infernal noise. 

A few days later the vessel and cargo, which was valuable 
on account of the large stock of good old Jamaica found on 
board, were sold at auction, the proceeds being devoted to town 
purposes. 

Major Crane's exploit caused a sensation, and for many 
years afforded a theme of conversation among our people. He 
died, universally legretted, at the age at 67 years, on the ninth 
of July, 1814, having a year previously suffered the amputation 
of the leg which was torn by a shot at Quebec, nearly forty years 
before. 



68 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



ELIZABETH OFFICERS THREATENED MUTINY. 

THE New Jersey Brigade of the Continental Army, during 
the winter of 1779, was encamped in and about Elizabeth- 
town, guarding it from probable incursions of British 
troops, stationed on Staten Island. When spring opened the 
various regiments were ordered to march away to reinforce the 
western aimy, then about to open the campaign. 

During the winter the officers of the First Regiment had 
appealed to the state legislature for a redress of certain griev- 
ances, especially as to the pay and subsistence which they re- 
ceived, but no attention was given the petitions for a betterment 
of their condition. 

When the orders came to march the officers of the First 
Regiment sent a lemonstrance through Colonel Ogden, addressed 
to the legislature declaring that unless their complaints received 
immediate attention they were, at the expiration of three days, 
to be considered as having resigned their positions, and request- 
ing the legislature in that event to appoint other officers. 

General Maxwell, to whom Colonel Ogden forwarded the 
remonstrance to the state legislature, endorsed it with the follow- 
ing words : 

"* * * This is a step they (the officers) are unwilling tc 
take, but is such, as I make no doubt, they will all take. Noth- 
ing but necessity, their not being able to support themselves in 
time to come, and being loaded with debts contracted in time 
past, would have induced them to resign at so critical a juncture." 

The officers, while awaiting a reply from the authorities 
continued making preparations for obeying the orders to march 
away to battle, and declared they would continue on duty until a 
reasonable time after the appointment of their successors should 
elapse. 

The paper currency had depreciated to such an extent that 
it had but little value. It was scarcely worth accepting. The 
officers, in rags, were ashamed to appear at social gathering? 
arranged in their honor, and actually suffered for the want of 
proper food because of their inability to make needed purchases 

Washington, who knew of the distress of the officers, and 
deeply sympathized with them, repeatedly urged upon Congress 
the necessity of making some general and adequate provisions 
for them. At one time, Washington wrote Congress that the 
distress in some of the corps "is so great that officers have 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 69 

solicited even to be supplied with the clothing issued to the com- 
mon soldier, coarse and unsuitable as it is. 1 had not power tc 
comply with the request. The patience of men animated by a 
sense of duty and honor will support them to a certain point, 
beyond which it will not go. I doubt not Congress will be sensi- 
ble of the danger of an extreme in this respect, and will pardon 
my anxiety to obviate it." 

The remonstrance and letter of General Maxwell had the 
effect of bringing the lawmakers to a realizing sense of their duty, 
and they at once authorized a commissioner to furnish the officers 
with clothing to the amount of two hundred pounds, and to pay 
each soldier in the brigade the sum of forty dollars each. This 
action removed the only obstacle to the forward movement of 
the brigade. 

Washington, who was strongly attached to the army, knew 
the virtue of the men, their sufferings, and the justice of their 
complaints, wrote the following letter to General Maxwell, tc 
be laid before the officers : 

"There is nothing which has happened in the course of the 
war that has given me so much pain as the remonstrance you 
mention from the officers of the First Jersey Regiment. 

"I cannot but consider it a hasty and imprudent step, which 
on more cool consideration they will themselves condemn. I 
am very sensible of the inconveniences under which the officers 
of the army labor, and I hope they will do me the justice to believe 
that my endeavors to provide them relief are incessant. There 
is more difficulty, however, in satisfying their wishes than per- 
haps they are aware of. Our resources have been hitherto very 
limited. The situation of our money is no small embarrassment, 
for which, though there are remedies, they cannot be the work 
of a moment. 

"* * * j confess the appearances in the present instance 
are disagreeable ; but I am convinced they seem to mean more 
than they really do. The Jersey officers have not been outdone 
by any others in the qualities either of citizens or soldiers, and I 
am confident no part of them would seriously intend anything 
that would be a strain on their former reputation. 

"The declaration they have made to the state at so critical 
a time, that 'unless they obtain relief in the short period of three 
days they must be considered out of the service,' has very much 
the aspect of appearing to dictate terms to their country, by tak- 
ing advantage of the necessity of the moment, and the seeming 
relaxation of continuing until the state can have a reasonable 



70 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

time to provide other officers, will be thought only a superficial 
veil." 

This letter of the commander-in-chief, although it did not 
cause the officers to recede from their claims, had the effect of 
bringing them so far round as to continue in the service. In 
an address to Washington they declared their unhappiness that 
"any step of ours should give him pain," but alleged, in justifica- 
tion of their action that repeated memorials which had been pre- 
sented to the legislature had been ignored, and added : 

"We have lost all confidence in that body. Reason and ex- 
perience forbid that we should have any. Few of us have pri- 
vate fortunes; many families are suffering everything that carj 
be received from an ungrateful country. Are we, then, to suffer 
all the inconveniences, fatigues and dangers of a military life, 
while our wives and our children are perishing for want of 
common necessaries at home, and that without the most dis- 
tant prospect of reward, for our pay is now only nominal ? 

"We are sensible that your excellency cannot wish or desire 
this from us. 

"We are sorry that you should imagine we meant to dis- 
obey orders. It was, and still is, our determination to march 
with our regiment, and to do the duty of officers until the legis- 
lature shall have a reasonable time to appoint others, but no 
longer. 

"We beg to assure your excellency that we have the highest 
sense of your abilities and virtues ; that executing your orders has 
ever given us pleasure ; that we love the service, and we love 
our country, but when that country is so lost to virtue and to 
justice as to forget to support its servants, it then becomes their 
duty to retire from its service." 

The legislature, roused by this event, made some partial 
provision for the troops. The officers withdrew their remon- 
strance, and continued to do their whole duty until victory was 
won — until the war ended in 1783. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 71 



SECOND MUTINY OF JERSEY BRIGADE. 

THE condition of the Jersey brigade continued deplorable. 
The officers, in rags, were so much ashamed of their uni- 
forms, that they refused to attend social gatherings. They 
not only lacked clothing, but suffered for the want of food; in 
fact, many of the officers, like their families at home, were in a 
starving condition. 

While the officers were thus reduced, owing to the inability 
of the legislature to keep its obligations, the condition of the rank 
and file was a thousand times worse. The enlisted men suffered 
so much for the want of the actual necessities of life that they 
became unfit for active duty. Scarcely one of the men had shoes, 
and most of them went about camp with their feet bandaged in 
rags. Their nakedness, unhealthy food and want of sustenance 
filled the hospitals, causing many deaths. 

On the first of January, 1781, thirteen hundred Pennsylvania 
troops, encamped near Princeton, paraded without officers, de- 
claring their intention of returning home. Their contention was 
that the term for which they had enlisted — three years, or dur- 
ing the war — had expired. The officers insisted that the mean- 
ing of the agreement was that they were to serve to the end of 
the war. 

The enlisted men took a contrary view, maintaining that 
they had engaged to serve for three years only, or during the 
war, if it should terminate before three years should elapse. 

The Pennsylvanians, determined to obtain a redress of their 
grievances, seized upon a battery of six field pieces, and at once 
left camp for Princeton, where the legislature was in session. 

General Anthony Wayne, a Pennsylvanian, in command of 
the brigade, hearing of the revolt, mounted his horse and over- 
took the mutineers, whom he commanded to halt. The men 
refused to obey his orders, and wild with passion, the hero of 
Stony Point placed himself in front of the column, and cocking 
his two big horse pistols, and pointing them at the breasts of two 
of the most active malcontents, threatened to fire unless they 
countermarched to camp. 

"Don't fire, general, or you are a dead man," shouted those 
nearest to him. "We have ever loved and followed you, but can 
do so no longer. We have been deceived by the authorities, and 
will not submit to further impositions. We are not going over 
to the enemy; on the contrary, were the British to appear now 



72 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

we would fight under your command with as much resolution 
and cheerfulness as ever ; but we wish to redress our grievances 
and this is the time to do so." 

General Wayne, who loved his men, seeing that coercion 
would fail, appealed to the patriotism of the men, who consented 
to put their demands in writing. They demanded an honorable 
discharge of all who had served three years, immediate payment 
of all the money due them, and that all future pay should be 
made in real money to all who remained in the service. 

A committee of congressmen, joined by the governor of 
Pennsylvania, visited the camp of the Pennsylvanians, and made 
an acceptable arrangement with them. 

Washington, on learning of the revolt, took steps to quell 
any further disturbance. He knew the troops had cause for dis- 
content, and was disposed to deal as leniently as possible with 
men who felt themselves driven to extremity, but he could not 
allow further outbreaks, and with this in view, selected a choice 
body of troops, which he held in readiness in the Short Hills tc 
march at any moment. 

This precaution on the the part of the commander-in-chief 
was timely, as a few days later a portion of the Jersey brigade 
encamped near Elizabethtown, rose in arms and boldly demanded 
the terms granted to the dissatisfied Pennsylvanians. 

Washington, who feared this disruption might lead to the 
destruction or disbandment of his greatly reduced army, imme- 
diately dispatched General Howe, with his chosen command, in 
pursuit of the Jerseymen, with orders to crush the revolt by 
force, unless the mutineers should at once yield unconditionally 
and return to duty. 

General Howe speedily overtook the malcontents, and threat- 
ening to open upon them with artillery, brought them into sub- 
mission. They had no alternative, so yielded without terms, 
Two of the ring-leaders were tried by drum-head court-martial, 
and promptly executed in the presence of all the troops. 

This ended the revolt of the Jersey brigade. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 73 



ASSASSINATION OF CHAPLAIN CALDWELL. 

THE foul and utterly unprovoked murder of Rev. James Cald- 
well, the most noted preacher-patriot in America during 
the revolutionary war, occurred on the wharf at what is 
now the foot of Elizabeth Avenue, Elizabethtown, on Saturday 
afternoon, November 24, 1781, but little more than one year after 
his angelic wife had been slain by a ruthless British soldier at 
Connecticut Farms, now the village of Union. 

James Caldwell was born in Virginia in April, 1734, his 
father, of Scotch ancestry, having emigrated to this country 
from County Antrim, Ireland. A daughter of Caldwell's brother 
was the mother of John Caldwell Calhoun, South Carolina's 
famous statesman. 

Young Caldwell graduated from the College of New Jersey 
(now Princeton University) in September, 1759, and next year 
was licensed to preach, being assigned a circuit in the southern 
states, including the Carolinas. In November, 1761. at the age 
of 27 years, he accepted the pastorate of the First Presbyterian 
Church in Elizabethtown, with an annual salary of $800. One 
year after settling there he married Hannah, daughter of John 
Ogden, great-grandson of John Ogden, one of the first settlers. 

When the war for liberty and independence was precipitated. 
Parson Caldwell took a leading part in arousing people to a 
sense of duty, and in all his prayers, and often in his sermons and 
exhortations, called upon the people to rise and strike a blow 
that would make them freemen. The most prominent men in 
the state lived in Elizabethtown and attended service at the First 
Church, and the seed he implanted by his fervor and eloquence 
fell upon good ground, producing most excellent results. 

From among his parishioners went forth to the patriot army 
no less than 40 commissioned officers, six of whom attained the 
rank of general ; 5 became colonels. 

In May, 1776, Mr. Caldwell accepted the chaplaincy of 
Colonel Elias Dayton's Third Regiment, and accompanied 
the command on its long and trying march to reinforce the 
northern army, then besieging Quebec. 

Besides attending to the spiritual wants of the men of the 
entire Jersey brigade, which he never neglected, Parson Caldwell 
was frequently called upon to act as assistant commissary general 
of the brigade. The duties of this office were to provide the 
men with food — no easy task in those days. 



74 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

With one exception — Governor Livingston, one of his con- 
gregation — Parson Caldwell was more bitterly hated by the Bri- 
tish and their tory allies than any man in New Jersey. On the 
other hand, he was loved by all soldiers and patriots with whom 
he came in personal or official contact, and enjoyed the fullest 
respect and confidence of all the officers, from Washington down. 

Chaplain Caldwell was noted for bravery and zeal as well as 
piety, and never hesitated in the performance of any duty. At 
the battle of Springfield, June 23, 1780, 16 days after the cold- 
blooded murder of the mother of his children by a fiendish British, 
soldier, learning that the soldiers of his regiment needed wadding 
for their muskets, he made his way through a line of the enemy's 
fire to the church in the village beyond, and thinking of nothing 
better or more available entered the sanctuary and gathering a 
number of hymn-books, hastened back to the firing-line, and 
distributing the little volumes, bade the boys "Give them Watts." 
If he intended any stronger expression under the circumstances, 
as he very likely did, he restrained it. 

It is sad to relate the fate that befell this sterling patriot 
and eloquent Christian minister, just at a time when he had every 
reason to look forward to a long and happy life, the war being 
virtually over. 

On the afternoon of Saturday, November 24, 1781, Chaplain 
Caldwell drove down to the "Point," as the lower part of the 
town was then called, to meet Beulah Murray, sister of Mrs. 
Ichabod Barnet, and escort her to the latter's home. Miss Mur- 
ray came over from New York on the flag-of-truce boat, which 
plied between the two places. The vessel having reached the 
wharf before the arrival of Mr. Caldwell at the station, the young 
woman disembarked and securing a conveyance, proceeded on 
her way. 

Major John Scudder, commanding the provost-guard at the 
ferry, who was on the sloop when the chaplain reached the dock 
being weil acquainted with the latter, invited him to board the 
vessel. Mr. Caldwell, supposing Miss Murray to be on the craft, 
stepped on the dock to greet her, but on learning the young lady 
had taken her departure, excused himself to the major, and was 
in the act of leaving the vessel when one of the sailors asked him 
to take a small parcel, tied in a handkerchief, to a friend in town. 
The kind-hearted parson, whose chief happiness was in doing , 
good and making other people happy, said it would be a pleasure 
to deliver the package as requested, and receiving the sailor's 
thanks for the kindness, descended from the sloop's deck to the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 75 

wharf, and, reaching his vehicle, was in the act of driving away 
when a soldier named James Morgan stepped up to him and 
rudely said: "I want to see what ye have got in that bundle." 

Mr. Caldwell, not liking the soldier's looks or his language, 
and having no disposition to bandy words with the fellow, asked 
if he might be permitted to return the bundle to the person from 
whom he had received it. 

Morgan, in a husky voice, gave his consent, whereupon the 
chaplain took the package from the box in the buggy, and was 
proceeding to the boat when Morgan, with musket raised, ran up 
to within two or three yards of him and fiercely yelled, "Damn 
you, stop." 

Parson Caldwell, surprised at the rude demand, instantly 
halted, and before he could turn his face to see what the demand 
meant, Morgan leveled his weapon to point blank, and sent a 
bullet crashing through the parson's body. He expired instantly 

The murderer was at once secured by Lieutenant Woodruff 
who happened to be near at the moment. The body of the dead 
chaplain was tenderly removed to the public hostelry (where 
afterwards stood the "Red Jacket" Hotel, Elizabeth Avenue and 
South Front Street), and late in the afternoon was brought up 
town, a mournful procession following the rude ambulance up 
First Avenue, Elizabeth Avenue, Broad Street, and down East 
Jersey Street to the large building now known as the Old Ladies' 
Home. 

Next day was the saddest Sunday the people of the town 
ever experienced, all hearts appearing to be crushed under the 
awful calamity. 

The entire population, without regard to creed, color or con- 
dition, assembled on Tuesday to pay the last tribute to the mar- 
tyred patriot, whose mortality was exposed to view on the lawn 
in front of the mansion. Strong-minded men wept in their deep 
sorrow, while the air was rent with the wailing of tear-bedimmed 
women. 

At the conclusion of the sad but impressive service, per- 
formed by Rev. Dr. McWhorter, of Newark, an intimate friend of 
the late chaplain, the plain wooden coffin was closed, and General 
Elias Boudinot stepped forward, leading the nine orphan children 
of the deceased, and after causing them to surround the silent 
dead, delivered an oration of sublime eloquence. 

A procession was then formed, the mournful cortege moving 
slowly up Jersey Street and down Broad to the First Church 
where all that was mortal of Chaplain Caldwell was laid at rest 



76 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

beside his sainted wife, amid tears of the surrounding multitude. 

What induced Morgan to commit the foul and unnatural 
crime was never ascertained. At his trial in Westfield, January 
21, 1782, two months after the murder, he sturdily maintained 
stoical indifference, even refusing to confer with his counsel. 
Captain William De Hart, who had been assigned to defend him 
Morgan was found guilty, and eight days later executed on a 
tree on the highest point of ground north of the village. He 
bore a bad reputation, and was noted for his quarrelsome dispo- 
sition. He had joined the army but a few weeks previous to 
his crime, and shirked all the duty possible. The New Jersey 
Journal, four days after the murder, stated that "Morgan had 
been to New York City without leave a fortnight before the 
assassination, and there are just grounds for suspecting that he 
had been bribed by the British or the tories of that city, which 
was never patriotic, to commit the abominable crime." 

Morgan was 22 years old and unmarried. His body was 
allowed to swing upon the tree until midnight, when Sheriff 
Noah Marsh and two assistants (sworn to secrecy) buried it 
deep, but just where was never revealed. 



MURDER OF THE SAINTED MRS. CALDWELL. 

1COPY from the New Jersey Gazette (the first paper estab- 
lished in this state), printed at Burlington, the following 

interesting particulars relating to Knyphausen's bloody raid 
on the seventh of June, 1780, to Connecticut Farms, the cruel 
murder of the angelic Mrs. Caldwell, the burning of her home, 
her rude burial, the battle that ensued, the burning of the village, 
and the hasty and disorderly retreat of the enemy back to this 
town, the most lucid and detailed account of the affair I have 
ever seen in print : 

"(Extract of letter from an intelligent gentleman in the 
neighborhood of Morristown, June 9, 1780) : 

"Although extremely fatigued I catch a moment to inform 
you that I have just returned from Elizabethtown, where I have 
been reconuoitering the enemy's situation and strength. 

"To give you any tolerable idea of their ravages and cruelty 
is beyond my descriptive abilities. They came out in force on 
Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, and landed in Elizabeth 
before day. Most observers differ in their account of their 
numbers. From my own observations I suppose them about 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 77 

5,000, with 17 pieces of artillery, and every preparation for a 
lengthy march. 

"They advanced to Connecticut Farms, about five miles dis- 
tant, very early in the morning of Wednesday, and altho' they 
observed great discipline and decorum in Elizabethtown, yet at 
the Farms every step was marked with wanton cruelty and cause- 
less devastation. They set fire to and entirely destroyed the 
Presbyterian Church and fourteen dwelling houses and barns, so 
that there are (I think) but two dwelling houses remaining in 
that fertile settlement. But, alas sir, this is only one part of the 
horrid scene ! 

"In this neighborhood lived the Rev. James Caldwell, whose 
zeal and activity in the cause of his country had rendered him an 
object worthy of the enemy's keenest resentment. 

"His vigilance and attention had always evaded every at- 
tempt to injure him, and therefore it was now determined to 
wound him in an unguarded spot ; following the absurd principles 
of too many of our incautious countrymen, he left his wife and 
family at home, trusting to the politeness and humanity of the 
enemy toward an amiable woman and a number of helpless and 
innocent children, tho' he did not think it prudent to trust them 
with his own safety. He had been warned of their utmost hatred 
to him, and therefore dissuaded him from leaving his family in 
their power ; but, alas, his confidence in their benevolence towards 
the helpless has been his destruction. 

"Soon after possessing themselves of the neighborhood, a 
soldier came to the house, and putting his gun to the window of 
the room where this worthy woman was sitting (with her children 
and a maid with an infant in her arms alongside of her), he shot 
her through the lungs dead on the spot. Soon after an officer 
and two Hessians came in and ordered a hole dug and her body 
thrown in, and the house to be set on fire. 

"At the request of an officer of the new levies, and with 
some difficulty, the body was suffered to be carried to a small 
house in the neighborhood, and Mr. Caldwell's dwelling house 
immediately set on fire, and everything belonging to him con- 
sumed together. The only comfort coming to this afflicted family 
is that the wretch who served as the executioner of this murdered 
lady (who from her excellent character deservd a better fat ■■ i 
did his business so effectually that she lost her life without dis- 
tress or pain. Thus it is, that even the tender mercies of the 
wicked are cruelty. This melancholy affair, with their cruel burn- 
ings, has raised the resentment of the whole country to the high- 



78 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

est pitch. They are ready almost to swear an everlasting enmity 
to the very name of Briton. So far is this cruelty and devasta- 
tion terrifying to submission that it drives the most timid to feats 
of desperate heroism. 

"A most worthy man, who has for more than four years past 
devoted himself to the service of his country, is thus left with nine 
small children, destitute of even a shift of clothes to comfort 
them. Many of the inhabitants are in a similar situation; some 
widows, some aged, some infirm. 

"So many have suffered, and are daily suffering, among us, 
that it is impossible anything considerable can be done for their 
present necessities. Shall I beg in behalf of these worthy, tho' 
unfortunate fellow citizens, suffering in the common cause, that 
you will exert yourself among your acquaintances to afford 
them so relief? The difficulty of obtaining linen, clothes, etc.. 
etc., is unsurmountable among us. A small pittance saved from 
your luxuries will rejoice the hearts of our desponding brethren, 
and engage others to step forth with firmness to oppose the foes 
of America and mankind. 

"It moves the heart of the brave and venturous citizen to 
behold the piteous, heart-rending sufferings of the widows, chil- 
dren and dependents of those who have nobly fought the battles 
of our country, and bled in her righteous cause, while those who 
fly from the appearances of danger are rioting on the spoils of 
those who bear the heat and burden of the day. 

"I know your generous heart will bear a part with the afflic- 
tions of every sufferer in so glorious a cause, and your benevolent 
hands will be ready to exert themselves to obtain the relief that 
may be in your power. 

"But to return : The enemy being opposed by a regiment of 
Colonel Dayton's, and such militia as could be suddenly collect'' 
made a slow advance till they came to a bridge at the entrance 
of Springfield, where the militia had an old iron 4-pounder field- 
piece, which they used to such purpose that the enemy were 
driven back for some considerable distance. Being thus encour- 
aged, Colonel Dayton's regiment, and the militia together, pressed 
upon them and killed and wounded many of them; the general 
estimate is about 100. As our people were reinforced they 
gained firmness, and at night the enemy had reached no further 
than Connecticut Farms. 

"In the night, having received an express from General Clin- 
ton in North Carolina, they immediately began a retreat, and by 
ten o'clock on Thursday they had gained Elizabethtown Point. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. /V 

from whence the)' sent off all their wagons, a part of their artil- 
lery and some of their cavalry. Previous to this, Lord Stirling, 
with General Hand's brigade and the militia, was detached close 
on their rear, and between Elizabethtown and the Point had a 
very severe skirmish — some loss on both sides. Never did troi 
behave better than ours. The militia behaved beyond anything 
that could have been expected. The Continental officers gave 
them the greatest credit. It is said the enemy had been persuaded 
that after the taking of Charleston the militia would submit 
and the Continental troops would desert. It seems as if the mili- 
tia had known these suggestions. Never did they so universally 
turn out on such short notice, and never with better spirits. I 
left this morning at least 2,000 of them below the mountains. 
and more flocking down continually. Colonel Dayton deserves 
the greatest credit, as does all his officers, who behaved unex- 
ceptionably. 

"The enemy were all day yesterday maneuvering to bring 
on a general engagement, and General Washington trying to 
draw them from their possession on the Point, where it was 
impossible to attack them to advantage. Both have failed, and 
General Washington hath drawn back the main body of his army 
above Springfield to refresh them, as they were exceedingly 
fatigued with two days and two nights lying on their arms. 
Everything has been carried on with great propriety, and we 
are in hopes the gentry will be obliged to retire notwithstanding 
their sanguine expectations. General Knyphausen, it is said, 
brought over his carriage, expecting to have comfortable use for 
it. They are in such force that I am clear of opinion they intended 
to penetrate the country, and from some hints they have dropped, 
they have Pennsylvania in their eye, if they can beat General 
Washington. 

"I would give more particulars, but I am wearied beyond 
measure with the fatigue of three days' ride, and no rest at night. 
and I write in pain. 

"P. S. — I forgot to mention a circumstance relative to Mrs. 
Caldwell's death that is very striking. Some of the soldiers 
attacked a young lady about three miles from Mr. Caldwell's 
home, and one of them, presenting a fixed bayonet at her breast, 
swore he would kill her, for that she was the wife of Mr. Cald- 
well. He was with difficulty prevented from putting his threats 
into execution by a young officer who knew the lady, and swore 
to him that she was not the wife of Mr. Caldwell. This was 
previous to her murder. And on their retreat from Connecticut 



80 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Farms, a soldier bragged at Elizabethtown that he had shot this- 
unhappy lady. 



ATTEMPTED CAPTURE OF BRITISH CROWN PRINCE. 

DURING the American Revolution there was no more pa- 
triotic or daring soldier in New Jersey than Colonel 
Matthias Ogden, who had a close rival in his only brother. 
Colonel Aaron Ogden, after the war governor and United 
States senator. In these days of commercialism and greed it 
may not be amiss to revert to the days that tried men's souls 
while laboiing to establish liberty and independence for the peo- 
ple of thi^ and other lands. 

Colonel Matthias Ogden distinguished himself on many occa- 
sions during the revolution, but in no instance did he show greater 
bravery than when, with a few chosen companions, he attempted 
to capture the Crown Prince of England, afterwards King Wil- 
liam IV., in New York City. The young man, a son of George 
III., when fourteen years old, was appointed a midshipman in 
the British navy, and to acquire knowledge of the sea and distant 
lands accompanied Admiral Digby to this country. Admiral 
Digby's fleet reached New York City in 1779, and remained there 
some months. 

The Crown Prince, who was of lively disposition, and al- 
lowed to have his own way in pretty much everything, was ashore 
most of the time, having a good time with boon companions of 
both sexes. He went about unattended by pomp, display or 
guard, and was prodigal in the use of money, with which he was 
ever well provided. 

Late in the summer it occurred to Colonel Ogden that it 
might be possible to effect the capture of England's future ruler, 
and bring him to New Jersey as a hostage. The British and tories 
on Staten Island, having made repeated raids to this town while 
the Jersey brigade was absent in the Indian country (Wyoming 
Valley) inflicting great damage to property and carrying away 
defenceless citizens as prisoners, among whom were some friends 
of Colonel Ogden, he matured a plan for the capture of the 
Crown Prince;, and submitted it to General Washington, in camp 
at New Windsor on the Hudson River. 

"I do not altogether favor such a mode of warfare," said 
Washington, after hearing Colonel Ogden reveal his intentions, 
"but it will give you a little diversion and may prove of some 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 81 

value to the cause. You have my permission to engage in the 
enterprise, but if you succeed in capturing the young man you 
must treat him with all the deference due his great rank. I can- 
not but impress upon you the necessity of extreme caution if you 
would escape the fate of Nathan Hale." 

Armed with this permission and overjoyed at the result of 
his interview with the commander-in-chief, Colonel Ogden made 
his way back to this town, and at once selected the men who were 
to compose the expedition. 

Colonel Ogden picked four men from his regiment who had 
often gone through fire with him, and on whom he could place 
the utmost dependence, and early in the fall made his way to 
Paulus Hook (now Jersey City), where a skiff, admirably suited 
to his purpose, was found and appropriated. The weather con- 
ditions postponing the crossing of the Hudson for two nights, a 
start was finally made. Evading vessels lying at anchor, Colonel 
Ogden and his little party had nearly reached the New York side. 
and were congratulating themselves on the almost absolute cer- 
tainty of success, when they were suddenly hailed from a large 
launch filled with soldiers in the act of putting off from a dock 
near the Battery. 

Taken thus wholly unawares, and unprepared to return a 
satisfactory answer to the challenge, Colonel Ogden quickly 
sheered off and rowed up the river on a flood tide, a shower of 
leaden messengers following. Finding himself pursued, Colonel 
Ogden, at the tiller, encouraged his crew to make every exertion 
to outdistance those in pursuit if they would not "have hemp 
for breakfast." The colonel, as his craft proceeded up the river, 
looked everywhere along the shore for a safe place of refuge, and 
finding none owing to the alarm that had been given when first 
discovered, headed his boat for the Jersey shore, and finally suc- 
ceeded in reaching the ground now occupied by the city of Ho- 
boken, where he and his men landed safely under a fire which 
the American outpost there directed against the approaching 
British boats that had closely followed in pursuit. 

Colonel Ogden's spirited adventure formed an interesting 
theme in camp and bivouac for months afterwards, some joking 
at the expense of the colonel being indulged in. 

When intelligence of Colonel Ogden's undertaking reached 
the notorious Hetfield brothers (natives of Elizabethtown, but for 
several years past refugees on Staten Island), they declared 
they would return the American colonel's compliment by captur- 
ing him at the first opportunity. Those who knew the character 



S2 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

and desperate daring of the Hetfields had no doubt they would 
carry out their intention. The Hetfields possessed an intimate 
knowledge of the topography of this section and knew every nook 
and crook, as well as every family in what is now circumscribed 
by the bounds of Union County. The night set for the accom- 
plishment of their fell purpose — Saturday, November 4, 1780 — 
having rolled round, the Hetfields and other wild and adventurous 
spirits crossed the sound from Staten Island, and procuring horses 
on this side, dashed into this town and reached the homes of 
Colonel Ogden and Captain Jonathan Dayton before an alarm 
could be raised. 

Foiled by the absence of the two officers from their homes 
that night, the Hetfields learned they were at the home of William 
Herd, at Connecticut Farms, and at once proceeded thither with 
all possible speed, fearing their retreat would be cut off. The 
raiders, on reaching Mr. Herd's, surrounded his house, and 
bursting in the doors, demanded the surrender of its inmates. 
Resistance under such circumstances being futile, Ogden and 
Dayton, thus ruthlessly awaken from sleep, gave up. Allowed to 
make their toilet, they were bound and gagged, and then com- 
pelled to see the raiders partake of a repast which they compelled 
Mrs. Herd to provide for them. The good woman consumed as 
much time as possible in preparing savory dishes, hoping mean- 
time for the arrival of a rescue party, which, however, failed to 
materialize, much as it was desired. 

The raiders had great sport in compelling "Pomp," an aged 
slave, to serve them with apple whisky of delightful flavor, on 
which Mr. Herd and his friends often doted. Having thus re- 
freshed themselves, and accomplished the object of their under- 
taking, the raiders seized two of Mr. Herd's best horses, on 
which they mounted the two prisoners, then set out on their home- 
ward journey, via Galloping Hill, reaching the sound near Trem- 
ley at daybreak and crossing the water in safety. 

At the close of the war, General Ogden, on the recommen- 
dation of Washington to Congress, was sent to the court of St. 
James with important communications. He died in Elizabeth at 
the early age of thirty-six years. 

He sleeps beside the entombed mortality of his brother. 
Colonel Aaron Ogden, Colonel Francis Barber, General Dayton 
and other immortals. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 83 

SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCHE. 

1HAVE no intention in this sketch of one of New Jersey's fore- 
most and brilliant soldiers of the American Revolution to 

bore the reader with prosy history, but simply to narrate 
exciting incidents in the career of Lieutenant Colonel Francis 
Barber, oi Elizabethtown, who was throughout the contest very 
close to Washington, serving at times upon his military staff. 
Some of the incidents narrated to me by Mrs. Mary Chetwood, 
of Elizabeth, a granddaughter of Colonel Barber, and Colonel 
Aaron Ogden, have never before found their way in print. 

Elizabethtown, during the war for independence and liberty 
was celebrated for the patriotism, culture and wealth of its peo- 
ple, as well as for the number of its citizens distinguished on 
forum and in the field. Among the famous men of the country 
at that time was Francis Barber, who, at the age of 18 years, 
was placed in charge of the only grammar school in the colony 
having as pupils young men who shortly after rose to national 
prominence. Among Mr. Barber's scholars was Alexander Ham- 
ilton, of illegitimate parentage, and a native of an island in the 
West Indies, who, at the age of 14 years, landed in New York 
City. It was at Mr. Barber's school that young Hamilton first 
met the brilliant and patriotic Aaron Burr, of Newark, for whom 
he conceived a bitter dislike. 

Francis Barber cast books and ferule aside on learning of 
the shot at Lexington, whose reverberations went rolling around 
the world, and promptly devoted himself to the enrollment of 
his neighbors and friends to resist to the death the aggressions of 
the Briton. 

Young Barber, actuated by the holiest of motives, and a sin- 
cere desire to serve his bleeding country, made numerous ad- 
dresses in and about his home, his eloquent words stirring his 
hearers to profound depths of patriotism and effort. A regiment 
quickly organized in the town, was not called for by Congress 
for active service until the latter part of 1775. Young Barber, 
a first lieutenant in the First Regiment, was one of the small 
party of hardy young men belonging to that command that went 
in boats from Elizabethtown to Amboy, to capture the Blue 
Mountain Valley, a large British supply ship from London on 
its way to Boston, but which, owing to a storm in January, 1776, 
had been compelled to put into Prince's Bay for safety. The 
capture of the vessel, which was a valuable possession, produced 
great excitement wherever the news was spread. 



84 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

In March, 1776, Congress appointed Lieutenant Barber ma- 
jor of the Third Regiment, and later on he was promoted to the 
rank of lieutenant-colonel, the highest grade he reached. 

Colonel Barber's knowledge of military affairs, quickly ac- 
quired, together with the dashing bravery he displayed in numer- 
ous engagements from Brandywine to Yorktown, where General 
Lafayette (on whose staff he was serving) exchanged swords 
with him, won for him the cheerful obedience and admiration of 
his troops, as well as the confidence of his superiors, who on 
more than one occasion commended his gallantry. 

Colonel Barber was desperately wounded on three distinct 
occasions — Monmouth. Newton and Yorktown — in each of which 
he exhibited the rarest heroism. It was at Brandywine, while 
fiercely striving to save from capture the six beautiful guns 
taken by Washington from the Hessians at Trenton, that Colonel 
Barber established a reputation for fearlessness that gained for 
him encomiums from the commander-in-chief, under whose eyes 
he performed prodigies of valor. 

But it was at Monmouth, one of New Jersey's most note- 
worthy battlefields (where Colonel Barber acted as aide-de-camp 
to Washington), while leading a charge at a critical moment, 
that he delivered a shock to the trained British host that was like 
a falling mountain. Amid the roar of artillery and volleys of 
small arms, Colonel Barber's plume, like that of the Knight of 
Navarre, glared everywhere through the smoke of battle. He 
raged that hot day in June like an unloosed lion, amid the foe, and 
his bright eyes, always terrible in battle, burned with increased 
lustre, while his clarion voice, heard above the awful turmoil of 
battle strife, was worth more than a hundred trumpets to cheer 
on his faithful and enthusiastic followers. Colonel Barber was 
a thunderbolt in battle, and the deeds wrought by him during 
the long seven years of active service might well furnish themes 
for the poet and the painter. 

"It was an inspiring sight." chronicles a historian of those 
days, "to see Colonel Barber, whose whole soul was ever in the 
deadly work, leading on his brave townsmen and friends, eager 
as they were for the fray. His lithe yet manly form was ever 
in the thickest of the contest. He ever set an example to all 
about him, displaying a stoical disregard of death, despite repeated 
wounds and the sanguinarv harvest which Death reaped about 
him." 

In 1779 Colonel Barber accompanied the Jersey Brigade, then 
consisting of Colonel Israel Shreve's Second New Jersey, Colo- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 85 

nel Elias Dayton's Third New Jersey, Colonel David Forman's 
Regiment of Jerseymen and Marylanders, Colonel Elisha Shel- 
don's (Connecticut) Regiment of Dragoons, and a battery of 
light artillery, from Elizabethtown to the Wyoming Valley in 
northeastern Pennsylvania, to punish the Six Nation Confederacy 
of Indian Savages for the foul outrages committed by them the 
previous year on soldiers and peaceful settlers. 

It is not my purpose to give an account of the long and 
fatiguing march (beside which Sherman's promenade from At- 
lanta to the sea was a pleasure excursion) our brave Jersey Blues 
made on that occasion through an interminable wilderness, often 
finding it necessary to hew a way with axes through dense for- 
ests, but to recite a thrilling incident witnessed with horror by 
the entire expeditionary force at the perilous crossing of the 
romantic, wild and turbulent Susquehanna River, near where 
Wilkes-Barre now stands. 

It was in this rapidly coursing flood that Colonel Barber 
narrowly escaped a watery grave. A young lad from Newark 
belonging to the Third Regiment, unable to maintain his footing 
in the flowing waters, having been separated from his companions 
(who held each other by the hand as they waded across up to 
armpits), was carried swiftly away by the rapid current, when 
an alarm was shouted. Colonel Barber, mounted on a superb 
horse, being near at hand, superintending the movement, hearing 
agonizing cries, and seeing the imminent danger of the young 
soldier, spurred his swimming animal toward the drowning boy, 
who often disappeared from sight, and by dint of great exertion 
succeeded in reaching him in the nick of time. The soldier at 
once, by direction of the colonel, seized a stirrup, holding fast 
with death-like grip. To keep his head out of water, Colonel 
Barber, in his efforts to draw the lad out of the raging flood, lost 
his balance, and falling from his horse, was rapidly borne down 
stream. 

Yells of horror and scenes of indescribable confusion among 
all who witnessed the colonel's peril followed. Those on the 
shores became frantic, especially when the hero disappeared for a 
time under the waters owing to his inability to gain a footing, so 
swift and strong was the current. Meantime a number of 
mounted officers put out from the shores to effect the rescue of a 
companion who was justly regarded as every man's friend and 
the idol oi the brigade. Three of the horsemen, after great diffi- 
culty, managed to reach the drowning colonel, who, encumbered 
with a heavy sword, was unable to assist himself, and saved him 
from a cruel fate. 



86 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

The woods lining the shores, which had heretofore only re- 
sounded to the songs of birds and the blood-curdling yells of 
savages, rang with such cheers as only American soldiers can 
give, when they saw the gallant and almost unconscious colonel 
delivered from a perilous situation. The colonel's horse, to which 
the brave Newark lad had clung with tenacity, reached the shore 
in safety with his burden, greatly to the satisfaction of Colonel 
Barber, who highly prized the noble animal. 

Colonel Barber, who had long enjoyed the confidence of 
Washington, was senior aide-de-camp to General Lafayette at 
Yorktown, and to partially reward him for his many acts of 
bravery the commander-in-chief designated him to command and 
lead the charging column in the last general engagement of the 
war. No sooner did Alexander Hamilton, Barber's former pupil 
learn of this determination on the part of Washington than he 
went directly to the commander-in-chief and violently remon- 
strated against the detail. He went so far as to threaten to resign 
his commission unless the order was countermanded and he given 
command of the advance column. Although Hamilton had never 
had direct command of troops, nor led in any battle, being sim- 
ply a sort of military clerk to the commander-in-chief, Washing- 
ton was compelled to do an act of great injustice to Colonel Bar- 
ber, which he ever after regretted. 

Although bereft of a duty, which he had not solicited but 
which he would gladly have performed, Colonel Barber had in- 
tense satisfaction in entering the enemy's works by the side of 
his beloved chieftain, Lafayette, in advance of the troops directed 
by Hamilton, and although he received a ghastly wound while 
endeavoring to wrest a standard from a British color-bearer, he 
felt amply repaid by the compliments paid him in Washington's 
congratulatory order, and in exchanging swords with General 
Lafayette, his immediate commander, who expressed a desire to 
carry back to France a weapon that so often and so gloriously 
flashed in battle. Colonel Barber's sword is in France, while the 
elegant and costly blade worn by the French patriot may be seen 
to-day at the rooms of the New York Historical Society at 
Newburg. 

It is ?ad to reflect that Colonel Barber, after many vicissi- 
tudes and manifold dangers, often lying close to death's door, 
should end his brilliant career of usefulness to his country by 
being accidentally killed. 

Washington, surrounded by most of his officers that day, 
was in a very happy frame of mind, having received intelligence 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 87 

that a treaty of peace had been signed by the mother country. 
He had ordered an elaborate dinner in celebration of the event, 
and all were about to partake of the feast when Washington re- 
ceived an important dispatch requiring prompt action. This he 
committed to Colonel Barber for delivery. The latter, like the 
faithful soldier he had ever proved, mounted and dashed away 
and in passing through a woods, half a mile from camp, he and 
his horse were crushed by a falling tree, which at that moment 
soldiers had felled for firewood. The soldiers, horror-stricken, 
rushed to the spot, but the colonel and his animal, impaled, were 
dead, having been instantly deprived of life. 

When the sad intelligence was borne to Washington, he 
rose from the table, deeply affected, saying: "Men of higher 
rank and more wealth mav die, but there is but one Francis 
Barber." 

In closing my sketch, I will add the following story relating 
to Colonel Barber's family, narrated to me by Mrs. Chetwood: 

"During the revolution, Mrs. Francis Barber, my grand- 
mother, was, with her children, George and Mary, sitting in her 
apartment on the ground floor of the stone house, built in 1759 
by her father, in Elizabeth Avenue, below Spring Street, and still 
standing, when a party of British soldiers rudely entered either 
for murder or plunder, or both. They were boisterous, and paid 
no heed to the remonstrances of my grandmother. 

"When the soldiers at last tumultuously entered the drawing- 
room, expecting to enrich themselves, they came to a sudden halt. 
They had made an unexpected discovery — no less than a superb 
painting, representing General Wolfe at the battle of Quebec 
executed in a large panel over the great open fireplace. The 
raiders no sooner beheld the picture than, intoxicated and hilari- 
ous as they were, they doffed their hats, made rough attempts to 
straighten up and salute the object of their adoration, and im- 
mediately withdrew from the apartment and from the house. 
My grandmother often said she was firm in her conviction that 
she and her children were indebted for their lives and the preser- 
vation of her property to the effect the painting of the gallant 
British officer had on the mob." 



88 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



HEARD COLONEL BURR TELL THRILLING STORIES. 

NO town in New Jersey is richer in Revolutionary lore than 
Elizabeth, which furnished more men for Washington's 
army than any other locality in the colony. No other 
town in New Jersey was so beset by the enemy during the eight 
years' struggle, and no community made greater sacrifices of 
blood and treasure. Elizabeth enjoys the distinction of having 
furnished more commissioned officers than any other town, the 
most daring and distinguished men having their homes there 
when the war broke out. Some of them rose to national promr- 
nence in field and forum. 

Quite a number of the lineal descendants of these heroes and 
statesmen are still living in Elizabeth, notably Mrs. Mary Chet- 
wood, still hale and hearty at the age of 90 years. Mrs. Chet- 
wood, widow of John Chetwood, born here in 1817, is a grand- 
daughter of Colonel Aaron Ogden and Colonel Francis Barber. 

In a recent intensely interesting conversation with Mrs. 
Chetwood she narrated many personal recollections of General 
Lafayette, Colonel Aaron Burr and other noted heroes of the 
war for independence. 

"I am glad to know," said this pariotic and most amiable 
lady to me, "that you are an admirer of Colonel Burr, whom 
I repeatedly met and conversed with at the home of Colonel 
Aaron Ogden, my grandfather. No American was ever more 
foully aspersed than he. I never saw a more unselfish char- 
acter, and never talked with such a brilliant conversationalist. 
No one who ever looked into his keen, black, luminous eyes, 
could forget them. I was in my early childhood when first 
presented to Colonel Burr at my grandfather's home, and was 
so fascinated with his appearance that I could scarcely withdraw 
my gaze. Perhaps he noticed this, as directly he made his way 
across the great drawing room and asked me in a silver-toned 
voice if I played on the piano. When I told him I did not, 
he smiled sweetly and remarked : 'It is as well ; you will have 
more time to improve your mind.' 

"Colonel Burr, my grandfather and his brother, General 
Matthias Ogden, were bosom friends, almost inseparable, and 
of about the same age, 19 years, when the war broke out. Gen- 
eral Ogden was two years their senior. The intimacy and 
burning love existing between the three was formed at the home 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 89 

of Colonel Burr's uncle, Timothy Edwards (son of President 
Edwards, of Princeton College), who had married Rhoda Ogden, 
daughter of Robert Ogden, and a sister of Matthias and Aaron. 
Colonel Burr's mother was a daughter of President Edwards. 

"Colonel Burr's parents dying when he was 5 years old, he 
and his sister made their home with their uncle, Timothy. Young 
Burr inherited a considerable estate, which allowed him the 
privilege of living and regulating his conduct according to the 
bent of his own inclinations. Burr's grief at the loss of his 
parents, to whom he was devotedly attached, seems to have com- 
pletely changed his character, and historians, taking advantage 
of this, have been very hard on him, painting him in the blackest 
colors. Some writers in aspersing his character, have gone so 
far as to say that Colonel Burr died unbefriended, and his place 
of 'sepulchre is unknown.' 

"I never understood why so-called historians wrote so ven- 
omously of a man who had faithfully and brilliantly served his 
country on its battlefields. Colonel Burr died at a pleasant 
home on Staten Island, his bedside surrounded by sorrowing 
relatives and friends. His mortality was interred at Princeton, 
near the happy scenes of his college days. Some of the rela- 
tives present at the obsequies were Pierrepont Edwards, son of 
the distinguished Jonathan Edwards. Pierrepont Edwards and 
Colonel Burr's mother were descendants of Colonel Burr's uncle, 
brother and sister. Mrs. Lily Devereaux Blake's mother was 
a daughter of Pierrepont Edwards. Ogden Edwards, who long 
lived on North Broad Street, this city, and died there, was a 
great-grandson. His family still lives there. 

"Ogden Edwards at one time possessed an oil painting of 
Theodosia Burr (Mrs. Alston), Colonel Burr's only daughter. 
It hung in the parlor for many years, where I frequently admired 
it. One night the house was entered and the canvas cut from 
the frame and carried away. The painting could never be 
traced, and a fine work of art, together with the picture of a 
lovely and fascinating woman, whose fate was melancholy, 
was thus forever lost. Theodosia Burr, in both girlhood and 
womanhood, was all brain and heart, the former too active and 
the latter too loving for the fragile casket in which nature had 
enclosed them. 

"I delight in recalling recollections of Colonel Burr, and 
the many thrilling stories I heard when a girl, of his great 
bravery and gallantry ; of his long, perilous and fatiguing march 
through the enemy's country, amid deep snow and intense cold, 



90 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

to carry a dispatch from his commander — General Benedict Ar- 
nold — to General Montgomery, then besieging Quebec; of his 
carrying the latter after falling desperately wounded through a 
red sea of the enemy's shots to a place of safety ; of his pleasant 
association with General Israel Putnam, on whose staff he ably 
served, and of his distinguished conduct at Monmouth, in which 
campaign he was stricken with a disease which necessitated 
his retirement from the army, to whose interests he had been 
entirely devoted for more than four years. 

"In stature, as I remember, Colonel Burr was about five feet 
six inches ; of spare, meagre form of elegant symmetry ; fair and 
transparent complexion. He did not dress flashily, but well, 
and was of commanding presence, erect and dignified deport- 
ment. His forehead was prominent and broad. His eyes, of 
which I have already spoken, were of ordinary size, of a dark 
hazel, appearing almost black, and scintillated with the most 
tremulous sensibility. They rolled with poetic fervor and 
beamed at all times with the piercing rays of genius. His mouth 
was large, his voice manly, clear and as melodious as a lute. 
His face, analyzed, showed unimportant traits, but upon a super- 
ficial view they were obscured like the spots in the sun by a 
radiance that dazzles and fascinates the sight. 

"Colonel Burr, in a promiscuous company, was rather taci- 
turn, but when he spoke it was with frankness. He was the 
most perfect model of an accomplished gentleman that could be 
found, even by the wanton imagination of poetry or fiction. 

"I am heartily glad," said Mrs. Chetwood, in conclusion, 
"to learn that Americans are beginning to appreciate the great 
services rendered our country by Colonel Burr, and to bestow 
upon him that meed of praise of which he has so long been 
bereft by the machinations of envious men, who have labored to 
blacken his character and thus effect his ruin." 



RECOLLECTIONS OF LAFAYETTE. 

MRS. MARY CHETWOOD, of Elizabeth, contempora- 
neous with many of the illustrious men of the Revolu- 
tionary War, and who met and conversed with them on 
numerous occasions, recently narrated to me her recollections 
of the last visit Marie Jean Paul Roch Yves Gilbert Motier, Mar- 
quis De Lafayette, made to Elizabeth. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 91 

"The General's long-promised visit to this town was antici- 
pated with joyful pleasure by all our people, poor as well as 
rich, blacks as well as whites. Our authorities and citizens, 
with ample time at their disposal, made elaborate preparations for 
his coming, and the attending receptions, as after the General 
arrived in New York he went as far as Boston and later to 
Albany on his sight-seeing journey. Wherever he went he was 
met by an outpouring of a grateful people, who extended the 
warmest greetings of welcome. Next to our own beloved 
Washington, I believe General Lafayette was the most popular 
man of our Revolution. 

"The General reached here about the middle of September. 
on one of the most charming days of that delightful month. 
Everybody rose early that eventful morn and lost no time in 
getting a coigne of vantage to view the distinguished visitor and 
the brilliant escort accompanying him. 

"The decorations of buildings, while not so elaborate as I 
have seen them here in later years, were pretty and effective 
and highly creditable for the times in which we then lived. You 
must remember our town then numbered but a few hundred peo- 
ple, who had hardly recovered from the blighting effects of the 
long war fought less than half a century previous. 

"I remember General Lafayette's appearance perfectly well," 
continued Mrs. Chetwood, "as he took my tiny hand in his at 
the home of my grandfather, Colonel Aaron Ogden, in the fall 
of 1824. He was then about 60 years old, thick set, and not 
over five feet seven inches high. His hair, quite short and 
tinged with gray, was unparted, giving it Pompadour style. His 
somewhat long neck was encased in a hign stock, covered with 
black silk. He wore no hair on his elongated face. He greatly 
resembled Governor Williamson, with whom I have often asso- 
ciated him in my mind. 

"I shall never forget the beautiful memories that cluster 
around the day General Lafayette stopped in our town. Every 
scene was brilliant and impressive. Business was generally 
suspended, and the schools closed; everybody appeared in their 
best attire, and Broad and Jersey Streets presented an animated 
appearance. 

"The General came dashing into town amid the discharge 
of cannon and ringing of bells, shortly before noon from New- 
ark, escorted by a gay cavalcade of horsemen gathered from this 
town and surrounding country. He traveled in a large and 
heavy barouche, drawn by six cream-colored horses, with pos- 



92 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

tilions and outriders in liveries. I had never before seen such 
a gaudy display of apparel, at least not on men. 

"General Lafayette, while in this town, was the guest of 
General Jonathan Dayton, who then lived in the building at 
present occupied as the Home for Aged Women, and of my 
grandfather, Colonel Aaron Ogden, former Governor and 
United States Senator, whose home was in the brick building 
standing on the southwest corner of East Jersey and Catharine 
Streets. 

"Receptions, open to the public, were given the distin- 
guished visitor at both houses, and I am of the opinion that 
everybody who assembled there had the pleasure of accepting 
the outstretched hand of the General, who was in a very happy 
mood. The ladies who attended were dressed only as fashion 
and elegance could devise. Their head-dresses were principally 
flowers, with large ornamental combs, some wearing plumes of 
ostrich feathers. White and black lace dresses over satin were 
mostly worn, with steel ornaments, and neckchains of gold and 
silver, suspended to some of which were gold and silver medals 
bearing a likeness of General Lafayette, the most popular for- 
eigner who crossed the sea to aid the Americans in achieving 
independence. A belt or sash, with a likeness of the General, 
entwined with a chaplet of roses, also formed part of the dress 
of the ladies. 

"As nearly half a century had rolled round in the vista of 
Time since my grandfather and General Dayton first met Gen- 
eral Lafayette, then a spirited lad of but 19 years, after his arrival 
in this country to do what he could to aid our people in their 
desperate struggle with a rich and powerful nation, their reunion 
on this occasion was most joyful. They warmly embraced, 
actually throwing themselves into each other's arms, but did 
not, like the crowned heads of Europe, indulge in any exercise 
of osculation. They enjoyed themselves tete-a-tete whenever 
possible, but the constant arrival of those anxious to pay homage 
precluded such a talk as they would have delighted in. 

"But how much more glorious the occasion had Governor 
Livingston, General (Lord) Stirling, General Elias Dayton (the 
personification of Washington), General Matthias Ogden, Gen- 
eral William Crane, General William Maxwell, Colonel Francis 
Barber (with whom General Lafayette exchanged swords after 
the capture of Yorktown), Parson Caldwell and other noted 
patriot soldiers been present to join in the gladsome welcome to 
a companion for whom from the first all had the sincerest ad- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 93 

miration and profoundest esteem ? But all these had long since 
crossed the silent river to join the immortal throng which had 
gone before. 

"General Lafayette expressed himself as delighted with 
everything he had seen during his two months' sojourn, which, 
by the way, was well extended into the next year, enabling him 
to visit almost every section, and was enthusiastic in predicting 
a bright and wonderful future for our land. 

"When he took leave of General Dayton and my grand- 
father, General Lafayette, as well as they, were visibly affected, 
and I am sure tears welled in their aged eyes, as they did in my 
younger and brighter ones. The distinguished trio thus parted 
with the consciousness that never again would they meet in this 
world. In fact, General Dayton died suddenly a few days after- 
ward. 

"General Lafayette's visit formed a theme of pleasant con- 
verse for our people for long years afterward, and with me the 
impressions imparted by it are among the sweetest of my life." 



A SOLDIER FROM BOYHOOD. 

DURING the times the souls of the first Americans were 
sorely tried, New Jersey had no firmer patriot, more 
daring or brilliant soldier, safer counselor or more emi- 
nent statesman than General Elias Dayton, who was born in 
Elizabeth in 1737. In his mature years he bore a marked resem- 
blance to General Washington, with whom, during the struggle 
for liberty and independence, and long after, he enjoyed confiden- 
tial relations, and whose confidence he possessed, both being of 
nearly the same age, Washington antedating him by five years. 

Dayton, when a young man, was noted for his activity, 
strength, and intrepidity, none excelling him in athletic exercises. 
None could draw a finer bead over the long and heavy barrel of 
a Kentucky rifle, his marksmanship being unerring, a matter that 
proved of great value to him after he became an officer in the 
English provincial army, while in horsemanship he was unex- 
celled. On entering his teens he was regarded by his playmates 
as a leader, all acknowledging his superiority of strength and 
character. 

When but 22 years of age young Dayton, who had a fond- 
ness for adventure and military life, entered the military service 
of the province of New Jersey and was promptly commissioned 



*94 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

as a lieutenant. One year later, March 29, 1760, he was promoted 
to a captaincy, serving at the time with regular British troops 
in the war against the French on the northwestern frontier. He 
took a prominent part in the prolonged conflict against Pontiac. 
the great head of the Indian race of that period and chief ally of 
the French in America, and had much to do in compelling that 
fierce and vengeful as well as able warrior, while besieging De- 
troit, to beat a retreat. Captain Dayton greatly distinguished 
himself the following year in an expedition against Pontiac, and 
was highly honored by his fellow-townsmen on his return home 
at the end of an arduous and dangerous campaign. 

Captain Dayton, retiring from the service, settled down to 
the quiet walks of private life, but it was not long ere he, like his 
fellow-countrymen, began to complain of the injustice of King 
George's government toward the people of the colony, and he 
became a leader in molding public opinion, and securing the adop- 
tion of measures that finally led to the Declaration of Independ- 
ence. 

Immediately after the attack of the British at Lexington, 
Captain Dayton, to whom the patriots of Elizabeth quickly turned, 
organized a regiment of militia, many of its members having 
served with him in the Indian wars, but Congress, for some un- 
accountable reason, did not accept the services of the command 
until early in the following year. Notwithstanding this, Colonel 
Dayton, who had been chosen commander of the Third Regiment, 
continued to drill and arm his men, in order to be ready for any 
emergency that might arise. An opportunity soon presented itself 
in the unexpected arrival in Prince's Bay, off Amboy, of the 
British ship Blue Mountain Valley, which put in there owing to a 
storm. Colonel Dayton, hearing of this, selected one hundred 
of his men, and in whaleboats, hastened down the sound to effect 
its capture, a task that was successfully accomplished without 
the loss of a man. 

Colonel William Alexander (better known as Lord Stirling), 
who resided at Basking Ridge, and was commander of the First 
Regiment, also proceeded overland with a small force to Amboy 
on the same errand. Both forces joined and at daybreak cap- 
tured the vessel. Alexander, like Admiral Samson at Santiago, 
reported what he didn't do to Congress, saying never a word 
about Dayton and his stronger command, which really accom- 
plished the task and received a vote of thanks. Lord Stirling 
had had no military training, but this act, in which he played 
second part, ultimately made him a major-general in the Con- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 9o 

tinental Army, he being the only Jerseyman to enjoy that dis- 
tinction. 

Colonel Dayton and his regiment, after doing guard duty 
in New York City, marched early in 1776 to Fort Ticonderoga, 
and assisted in the successful defense of that important strong- 
hold, and in 1777 he enjoyed the coveted distinction of opening 
the sanguinary battle of Brandywine, in which conflict Colonel 
Dayton had a horse shot under him, and at the battle of Ger- 
mantown, a little later on, had another horse killed under him in 
the heat of the engagement, his coat being riddled by bullets. It 
was believed by Colonel Dayton's men that the enemy mistook 
him for the commander-in-chief whom he so greatly resembled. 
When his friend, Colonel Francis Barber, jokingly alluded to the 
loss of two horses in two battles in succession, Colonel Dayton 
jocosely remarked: "Yes, it is rather a costly luxury, and it 
eats dreadfully into my salary." 

Colonel Dayton, in June, 1778, enjoyed the merited distinc- 
tion of first attacking the British column on the glorious field of 
Monmouth, in this state, where he performed prodigies of valor, 
and in the summer of 1779, he and his famous command took an 
active part in the operations of General Sullivan's command in 
the Wyoming Valley. He served in Congress in 1778-9, and re- 
joined his command at Yorktown, taking part in the siege, and 
in the ceremonies attending the surrender of Cornwallis and his 
army, October 10, 1781. Colonel Dayton succeeded General Wil- 
liam Maxwell in command of the Jersey brigade, and was thus 
one of the two brigadier generals appointed from New Jersey to 
the Continental Army. 

Notable qualities were ever displayed by General Dayton in 
all the situations to which stern duty called him. He had a com- 
bination of the daring spirit of the soldier, which he was born 
to be, as well as business and statesmanlike qualities, which 
eminently fitted him for the important affairs which constantly 
confronted and engrossed him. He possessed executive ability 
of a high order, and had a comprehension of details which were 
of infinite service to his command as well as to his country, whose 
interests he ever faithfully and efficiently served. A successful 
soldier, a hero in many arduous and fatiguing campaigns, he 
was of unblemished character and cultivated intellect. His de- 
portment, while dignified, was winning. He was one of the finest 
examples of the citizen-soldier in American history. 

A leader by divine right, and a magnetizer of men whose 
winning art was unconsciously exercised, General Elias Dayton 



96 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

never failed to deploy with such consummate finesse that it was 
always his men who led and he who followed. The care and 
safety of his men and the good of his country was the pillar of 
cloud by day and his pillar of fire by night. 

General Dayton towered in strength, and in activity he was 
marvelous, and, compressing the arduous, well-directed toil of 
years into the brevity of this imperfect sketch, no man did 
more than he to regenerate and stimulate his fellow-citizens dur- 
ing the great contest in which he bore such a conspicuous part. 
A Solon in wisdom, irreproachable as a citizen, ideal in his 
home, noble-minded and princely in all his impulses, General 
Dayton was a man who wove the precious threads of his check- 
ered and honored life into the tapestry of our country's history, 
enjoying the highest honors his people had to give, and which he 
magnificently bore with opulent fruitage. 

His death in 1807, at the age of three-score years and ten. 
caused all our people to mourn at his tomb in the burying ground 
in the First Presbyterian Churchyard. His memory is embalmed 
with the amaranth and ivy of the love of patriots, while the tree- 
top choristers overshadowing his resting place, chant requiems 
and the grass continues to grow green above him. 



MISS MARGARET MONCRIEFFE. 

A BEAUTIFUL and charming woman, who became notor- 
ious the wide-world over after the American revolution, 
passed her happy school-girl days in Elizabethtown, and 
a chapter or two concerning her ill-spent life may not prove unin- 
teresting. 

It is of the unhappy and unfortunate Margaret Moncrieffe 
whose chequered history I am now induced to rehearse. It was 
on her account — for which, however, she was in no way responsi- 
ble — that the gallant Aaron Burr was traduced, his motive as- 
persed, and his character forever blackened. 

Margaret Moncrieffe, only daughter of Captain James Mon- 
crieffe (at the end of the war lieutenant-colonel of engineers in 
the British army), when fourteen years of age, was a woman in 
development — witty, piquant and lovely. Previous to the out- 
break of the revolution she had resided in New York City, where 
her father was stationed with his command. 

Related to Governor Livingston's family, Margaret was in- 
vited to visit Elizabethtown and make her home at "Liberty 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 97 

Hall," the present residence of the Kean family, until the "trou- 
blous times are o'er." 

The occupancy of New York City by the American army, 
and the compulsory retirement therefrom of the British force, 
necessarily separated father and daughter, and for a time they 
were unable to communicate with each other. When the British 
took possession of Staten Island in July, 1776, and Margaret 
learned that her father, to whom she was greatly attached, was 
with the troops there, she yearned to join him, and wrote General 
Israel Putnam, commanding the American force in New York 
City, to that effect, begging his advice and assistance in restor- 
ing her to her father. 

Aaron Burr, then a major in the Continental army, receiving 
his commission from the state of New Jersey, of which he was a 
native, and a member of General Putnam's military household, 
prepared the bluff old general's reply to her letter, in which the 
general was made to say that as a soldier he was her father's 
enemy, but as a man his friend, and ready to perform any worthy 
act for him or his. He concluded by inviting Miss Moncrieffe to 
leave Elizabethtown and come to New York City and make her 
home with his family at his headquarters, No. 1 Broadway, until 
he could arrange for sending her to her father on Staten Island. 

General Putnam's kind letter rejoiced the young lady's heart, 
and bidding Governor Livingston's family farewell, she left this 
town for New York in a small sail-boat, escorted by one of Gen- 
eral Putnam's aides, who was accompanied by his wife. 

It was at General Putnam's headquarters that Margaret Mon- 
crieffe first met the ever-courteous and dashing Aaron Burr, with 
whom, later on, she became intimate. Most writers, from that 
day to this, have attributed Miss Moncrieffe's subsequent career 
of shame and sorrow to the major, then popular with all, save 
Alexander Hamilton, in whom the green-eyed monster existed 
from the time he and Burr first met. 

In her memoirs, published early in the last century, Miss 
Moncrieffe writes as follows of her departure from Elizabethtown 
and her arrival in New York. It is generally conceded that her 
"conqueror," whom she so passionately and eloquently extols, 
was Major Aaron Burr: 

"* * * When I arrived in Broadway (a street so called) 
where General Putnam resided, I was received with great ten- 
derness, both by Mrs. Putnam and her daughters, and on the 
following day I was introduced by them to General and Mrs. 
Washington, who likewise made it their duty to show me every 



98 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

mark of regard; but I was seldom allowed to be alone, although 
sometimes, indeed, I found an opportunity to escape to the gal- 
lery on top of the house, where my chief delight was to view, 
with a telescope our fleet and army on Staten Island. My 
amusements were few ; the good Mrs. Putnam employed me and 
her daughters constantly to spin flax for shirts for the American 
soldiers; indolence in America being totally discouraged; and I 
likewise worked for General Putnam, who, though not an accom- 
plished muscadin, like our dillatantes of St. James Street, was 
certainly one of the best characters in the world ; his heart being 
composed of those noble materials which equally command re- 
spect and admiration. 

"* * * One day a flag of truce arrived from Staten 
Island, with letters from Major Moncriefre, demanding me, for 
they now considered me as a prisoner. General Washington 
would not acquiesce in this demand, saying that 'I should remain 
a hostage for my father's good behavior.' I must here observe 
that when General Washington refused to deliver me up, the 
noble-minded Putnam, as if it were by instinct, laid his hand 
upon his sword, and with a violent oath, swore 'that my father's 
request should be granted.' The commander-in-chief, whose 
influence governed Congress, soon prevailed on them to consider 
me as a person whose situation required their strict attention; 
and that I might not escape, they ordered me to Kingsbridge 
where, in justice, I must say, that I was treated with the utmost 
tenderness. General Mifflin there commanded. His lady was a 
most accomplished, beautiful woman, a Quaker. And here my 
heart received its first impression — an impression that, amid the 
subsequent shocks which it has received, has never been effaced^ 
and which rendered me very unfit to admit the embraces of an 
unfeeling brutish husband. 

"O, may these pages one day meet the eye of him who sub- 
dued my virgin heart, whom the immutable, unerring laws of 
nature had pointed out for my husband, but whose sacred decree 
the barbarous custom of society fatally violated. To him I 
plighted my virgin vow, and I shall never cease to lament that 
obedience to a father left it incomplete. When I reflect on my 
past sufferings, now that, alas ! my present sorrows press heavily 
upon me, 1 cannot refrain from expatiating a little on the inevita- 
ble horrors which ever attend the frustration of natural affec- 
tions : I myself, who, unpitied by the world, have endured every 
calamity that human heart knows, am a melancholy example of 
this truth ; for if I know my own heart, it is far better calculated 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 99 

for the purer joys of domestic life than for the hurricane of 
extravagance and dissipation in which I have been wrecked. 

"Why is the will of nature so often perverted? Why is 
social happiness forever sacrificed at the altar of prejudice? 
Avarice has usurped the throne of reason, and the affections of 
the heart are not consulted. We cannot command our desires, 
and when the object of our being is unattained, misery must nec- 
essarily be our doom. Let this truth, therefore, be forever re- 
membered: when once an affection has rooted itself in a tender 
constant heart, no time, no circumstance can eradicate it. Un- 
fortunate, then, are they who are joined if their hearts are not 
matched ! 

"With this conqueror of my soul, how happy should I now 
have been ! What storms and tempests should I have avoided (at 
least I am pleased to think so), if I had been allowed to follow 
the bent of my inclinations! and happier, O, ten thousand times 
happier, should I have been with him in the wildest desert of our 
native country, the woods affording us our only shelter, and 
their fruits our only repast, than under the canopy of costly 
state, with all the refinements and embellishments of courts, with 
the royal warrior who would fain have proved himself the con- 
queror of France. 

"My conqueror was engaged in another cause; he was am- 
bitious to obtain other laurels: he fought to liberate, not to en- 
slave nations. He was a colonel in the American army, and high 
in the estimation of his country ; his victories were never accom- 
panied with one gloomy, relentless thought; they alone shone as 
bright as the cause which achieved them! I had communicated 
to General Putnam the proposals of this gentleman, with my 
determination to accept them, and I was embarrassed by the 
answer which the general returned ; he entreated me to remember 
that the person in question, from his political principles, was 
extremely obnoxious to my father, and concluded by observing, 
'that I surely must not unite with a man who would not hesitate 
to drench his sword in the blood of my nearest relation, should 
he be opposed to him in battle.' Saying this, he lamented the 
necessity of giving advice contrary to his own sentiments, since 
in every other respect he considered the match as unexception- 
able. Nevertheless, General Putnam, after this discovery, ap- 
peared, in all his visits to Kingsbridge, extremely reserved ; nor 
did he ever cease to make the object of his concern to Congress ; 
and, after various applications, he succeeded in obtaining leave 
for my departure ; when, in order that I should go to Staten 



100 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Island with the respect due to my sex and family, the barge 
belonging to the Continental Congress was ordered, with tw r elve 
oars and a general officer, together with his suite, was despatched 
to see me safe across the bay of New York. The day was so 
very tempestuous that I was half drowned with the waves dash- 
ing against me. When we came within hail of the Eagle man- 
of-war, which was Lord Howe's ship, a flag of truce was sent to 
meet us. The officer despatched on this occasion was Lieutenant 
Brown. General Knox told him that he had orders to see me 
safe at headquarters. Lieutenant Brown replied, 'It was impos- 
sible, as no person from the enemy could approach nearer the 
English fleet' ; but added, 'that if I would place myself under his 
protection, he certainly would attend me thither.' I then entered 
the barge, and bidding an eternal farewell to my dear American 
friends, turned my back on Liberty. 

"We first rowed alongside the Eagle, and Mr. Brown after- 
ward conveyed me to headquarters. When my name was an- 
nounced, the British commander-in-chief sent Colonel Sheriff 
(lately made a general, and who, during my father's life-time, 
was one of his most particular friends ; although, alas ! the en- 
dearing sentiment of friendship now seems extinct in his breast, 
as far as the unhappy daughter is concerned), with an invitation 
from Sir William Howe to dinner, which was necessarily ac- 
cepted. When introduced, I cannot describe the emotion I felt; 
so sudden the transition in a few hours, that I was ready to sink 
into earth ! Judge the distress of a girl not fourteen obliged to 
encounter the curious, inquisitive eyes of at least forty or fifty 
people who were at dinner with the general. Fatigued with their 
fastidious compliments, I could only hear the buzz among them 
saying, 'She is a sweet girl ; she is divinely handsome' ; although 
it was some relief to be placed at table next to the wife of Major 
Montresor, who had known me from infancy." 

Miss Moncrieffe, in her memoirs, records the history of her 
unfortunate marriage with Captain John Coghlan of the 85th 
Regiment of Foot of the British Army, who, by the brutality of 
his conduct and his entrance into every fashionable vice and folly 
of the day, "drove her into the arms of a paramour." She and 
her husband sailed on the flagship of the British fleet, which left 
New York for England Evacuation Day, 1783. 

She asserts that she led a strictly virtuous life until, after 
being forced into marriage with a man she loathed, she was sub- 
jected by him to harsh and cruel treatment, and it is, therefore 
but just to the memory of Colonel Aaron Burr, every way better 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. ^l 

than most of his traducers, for the reader to be informed that 
the foul storv of her ruination by him finds no corroboration in 
her own printed and intensely interesting narrative. 

Soon after the arrival of herself and husband in London 
she left the brute she was compelled to acknowledge as husband 
and became the mistress of the rakish Duke of York, and other 
noble libertines, who were entranced with her "beauty and divine 

loveliness." . , 

For a period of fifteen years Margaret Moncneffe made no 
inconsiderable noise in the fashionable circles of Great Britain 
and France. She alternatively reveled in wealth and luxury and 
in squalid poverty, and, finally, when "beauty fled found her- 
self deserted by all, and at last died in misery and suffering in 
London. 

ELIZABETHANS DEFEND AARON BURR. 

THE patriots of Elizabethtown and vicinity seem to have 
been cognizant, as early as 1800, of the insidious efforts 
of the aristocratic federalists and tories of New York, to 
effect the downfall and personal ruin of the gallant Colonel Aaron 
Burr for whom Alexander Hamilton, a foreigner, without natural 
parents, had, during his schoolboy days and throughout the 
American revolution, nursed a bitter and relentless hatred, lhis- 
feeling on the part of patriotic Jerseymen will be seen in the 
following toasts drank at public meetings held here after Colonel 
Burr had been inaugurated as vice-president of the United State. 
I copy from the Elizabeth Journal of March, 1801 : 

"A large number of republicans of this town met on the 
evening of March 10 to celebrate the inauguration of Thomas 
Jefferson as president, and Aaron Burr as vice-president, and 
among the toasts drank was the following: 

" 'Aaron Burr, Vice-President— May his enemies do penance 
by being obliged to swallow A Burr. (Three cheers.)' ' 

On the same evening the republicans of Westfield met and 
drank the following toast to Colonel Burr : 

"Aaron Burr, Vice-President and President of the Senate- 
May his patriotism and wisdom defeat the plans of the wicked 
junta in that house." 

"Wheatsheaf, March 4.— Vice-President Burr— May he re- 
main as an unbroken pillar in the cause of Freedom and prove 
a scourge to aristocracy wherever it may appear." 



102 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

"March 17. North Farms. — The worthy Aaron Burr, vice- 
president of the United States — May he co-operate with the 
sage of Monticello in making this western world free, indepen- 
dent and happy. (Six cheers.)" 



CAPTURE OF GUN BOAT. 

DURING most of the Revolutionary War the tories on 
Staten Island kept small armed vessels on guard along 
the sound from Bergen Point to Tottenville, and Ameri- 
cans from Elizabethtown made frequent attempts to capture them, 
as they were a source of much trouble and of infinite danger to 
our people. 

One beautiful moonlight night a party of town boys rowed 
down to Tottenville, hoping to capture a sloop lying at anchor 
there, but finding its captain — James Stewart — and crew bustling 
about on deck they turned back and returned home, bitterly la- 
menting the failure of their enterprise. 

For a long time in 1779 a sloop called the "Neptune" did 
guard service off Bergen Point, commanding the entrance to the 
Kills as well as Newark Bay, but one night in October, during 
a heavy blow, the craft got loose from its anchorage, and drifted 
toward this town, grounding on the bar east of the present Singer 
factory. 

The soldiers who manned the fortifications at the eastern 
terminal of New Point Road, seeing the vessel fast in the mud 
at low tide, got into boats, and rowing out. took possession of the 
deserted craft. They were congratulating themselves on the 
capture when they saw several whale boats, filled with armed 
men, putting out from Port Richmond, with a view of effecting 
its recapture. 

The Americans, unable to fire the cannon on the deck of the 
sloop, put up a stiff fight with their muskets, but finding them- 
selves greatly outnumbered, and a British gunboat rapidly ap- 
proaching, withdrew from the vessel, and made good their return 
to the shore and the protection of the fort. 

Cornelius and Job Hetfield, two notorious tories, who were 
driven out of Elizabethtown on the breaking out of the war, were 
in command of the British boats. 

The Neptune remained fast in the mud until the tide rose, 
when she floated and sailed away, not, however, without receiv- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 103 

ing some damage, and several of her defenders being killed and 
wounded by the Americans. 

The tories and renegades on Staten Island were a disreput- 
able lot, respecting neither friend or foe, revenge and plunder 
being their chief incentives. 

One night a British vessel, under a flag of truce, on its way 
from New York to this town, was suddenly boarded by a number 
of armed men in disguise. They spared the lives of those on 
board when promised the quiet surrender of some two thousand 
guineas which the British paymaster-general in New York had 
consigned to the vessel for delivery here, the Americans having 
agreed to forward the gold to Pennsylvania to purchase supplies 
for the Hessian prisoners of war confined there. 

The British attempted to fasten the crime on soldiers from 
Elizabethtown, but the fact was soon after established that Staten 
Island tories perpetrated the act. 



BRITISH FRIGHTENED BY GIRL. 

A TRADITION of the hasty and demoralizing retreat of 
Knyphausen's army from Connecticut Farms on the terri- 
ble night following the battle in June, 1780, is to the 
effect that a number of drunken Hessian soldiers, searching for 
plunder, left the disordered column and entered "Liberty Hall," 
the abode of Governor Livingston, and the present home of the 
Kean family. 

In the time of the revolution, the present Morris Avenue 
ran but a short distance above "Liberty Hall," where it branched 
off in a northeasterly direction, as far as the entrance to Vauxhall 
Road, at what is now known as Salem. The Vauxhall Road, 
in its serpentine course, leading to Springfield and the mountains 
beyond, is about the same to-day as then, except that most of it 
has been telforized, making a pretty drive its whole length. 

The Vauxhall Road, originally an Indian trail and subse- 
quently a cow path, which accounts for its winding ways through 
and over the hills, was one of the two main thoroughfares leading 
from this town to Morristown previous to and during the Revo- 
lutionary War. 

It was by this road that one column of the British army fled 
back to this town on the night of June 7, after its defeat at Con- 
necticut Farms. The night was made boisterous by a fearful 
storm of blinding lightning and loud rolling thunder, and the wild 



104 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

but senseless curses of the drunken British soldiers, smarting 
under the humiliation of bitter defeat by a handful of American 
farmer boys, illy clad and poorly armed. 

As I have already narrated, detachments from this drunken 
army (now a mere rabble), entered the house of Governor Liv- 
ingston for purposes of plunder, if nothing worse. They knew 
no men folks would be within, and capable of any crime, as they 
had shown themselves a few hours before when they mercilessly 
murdered Mrs. Caldwell in her sanctified home, they forced an 
entrance. 

The maid servants had fastened themselves in the kitchen 
an apartment at the north end of the mansion, while the two 
heroic daughters of the Governor securely locked the doors lead- 
ing into their chamber from the broad open hallway on the second 
floor. 

The beastly ruffians. I am glad to state, contented them- 
selves by remaining on the ground floors, where they searched 
for treasure, and it was while thus engaged that Miss Kate Liv- 
ingston, attired in a white robe (perhaps a night dress), appeared 
at the head of the stairs, holding in her hand a lighted taper, the 
beams from which partially illumined the hallway below. 

However much the rum-besoaked ruffians were insensible to 
human fear, they no sooner beheld Miss Livingston's angelic form 
than by common accord they rushed from the house, declaring 
the apparition of the murdered saint (Mrs. Caldwell), had thus 
suddenly appeared to reprove them for their awful crime. 

It was this scene that caused the hasty exit of the Hessians 
from a house they hated, and which they doubtless would have 
been glad to detroy. The only wonder is that the historic house 
was not given to the flames, for it was repeatedly visited by the 
enemy during the eight years of the American revolution. 



REFUGEES MAKE BITTER FIGHT. 

ONE of the last as well as one of the fiercest encounters 
between New Jersey militiamen and refugees in the 
Revolutionary War took place in Burlington County in 
January, 1783. 

John Bacon, a native of Monmouth County, one of the most 
notorious refugees in South Jersey, while on one of his mur- 
derous raids, halted his gang in the vicinity of Cedar Creek 
bridge. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 105 

Captain Richard Shreve, commanding the Burlington County 
Lighthouse, learning of Bacon's whereabouts, induced Captain 
Edward Thomas, commanding the Mansfield militia company to 
join him in an attempt to capture Bacon, for whom Governor 
Livingston, of Elizabethtown, had offered a reward of twenty- 
five pounds. 

Captain Thomas got his men together as quickly as possible 
and both commands started for the camp of the outlaws, which 
was reached in the middle of the afternoon. 

The refugees, who had meantime learned of the approach 
of the soldiers, put themselves in an excellent position of defense 
on the opposite side of the creek, first blockading the bridge so 
that the horsemen would be unable to charge over it. 

Upon the near approach of the militiamen Bacon and his cut- 
throats opened fire, one of the first shots killing William Cooke 
and seriously wounding Robert Reckless, for whom Reckless- 
town was subsequently named. 

The refugees not only possessed better arms and ammuni- 
tion than the militia, but they enjoyed a strong defensive position 
along the southerly side of the creek, which was heavily wooded. 
This led the attacking party to exercise the utmost wariness. 
Finally the militia reached and ensconced themselves behind the 
north bank of the creek, which enabled them to fire with deadly 
effect, and as the militiamen outnumbered the refugees, the latteT 
having lost a number of men. were on the point of giving way. 
when the soldiers received a volley from a party of newcomer? 
which had come upon them unawares. This attack from a new 
and unexpected quarter threw the militiamen into disorder, and 
came near precipitating their flight. 

The horsemen turned upon this new enemy, killing some and 
taking others prisoners. Among the refugees killed was Ichabod 
Johnson, a notorious murderer, for whom Governor Livingston 
had offered a reward, dead or alive. Bacon, although severely 
wounded, managed to escape, but a few weeks later he was sur- 
prised in his haunt at Egg Harbor and killed by a detachment of 
Captain Shreve's horsemen, commanded by Cornet Cook. 

The militiamen chased Bacon and the gang until darkness 
rendered further pursuit hopeless, when, with their prisoners 
and much property which the refugees had stolen, they returned 
to Burlington, lodging their captives in the jail, which they sur- 
rounded with a strong guard. 

Some of them were tried and executed for their foul crimes 



106 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



ARNOLD'S GREAT NAVAL BATTLE. 

GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD, a splendid fighter so 
long as he was true to manhood and the patriot cause, 
was commander of the first American fleet that ever 
engaged Great Britain in a naval battle, 

Arnold, who had been a non-commissioned officer in the 
British Army before the Revolution, was the best fighter in the 
Continental Army. It was in June, 1776, after the American 
force had been driven out of Canada, and General Sullivan was 
strengthening Fort Ticonderoga, that General Arnold begged 
permission of General Gates, who bitterly hated Washington, to 
build some boats so that he could engage the enemy when he 
appeared in Lake Champlain, an event naturally to be expected. 
Obtaining the desired permission, Arnold got a detail of men, and 
set to work constructing vessels, and a couple of months later 
he had launched his little fleet — a sloop, three schooners, and 
five gondolas. The sloop was armed with twelve guns, one 
schooner with the same number, the others eight, and the gon- 
dolas three each. The guns had formerly belonged to England, 
and were some of the two hundred which Colonel Ethan Allen 
had captured at Fort Ticonderoga in the name of the Great 
Jehovah and the Continental Congress. 

When General Carleton, who had driven our army out of 
Canada, learned what General Arnold was up to he sent nearly 
one thousand men from Quebec to St. Johns, to construct a fleet 
that would be sufficient to destroy the American vessels. The 
British, with everything at hand, soon completed their craft — 
twenty-five in number. One of the vessels, named the "'Thun- 
derer," flat bottomed, carried six 24-pounders and twelve six- 
pounders, the "Inflexible" (flagship) having eighteen 12-pound- 
ers, while each of the twenty-four gunboats were armed with a 
field piece, all better than anything Arnold had. 

About the first of September General Arnold sailed down 
the lake, with positive instructions not to pass a given point, 
and only to act on the defensive. Faithful to his orders, Arnold 
cast anchor with his vessels across the lake to prevent any of 
the enemy's boats from passing up, or getting in his rear. 

While thus anchored General Arnold discovered that he 
was in danger of being attacked and boarded by British and In- 
dians who had come down from Canada and were encamped on 
both shores. To evade an attack of this character, he fell back 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 107 

toward his base some ten miles, where his fleet was greatly aug- 
mented, his ship-builders having kept at their task all summer. 
His fleet, now considered quite formidable, consisted of three 
schooners, two sloops, three galleys, eight gondolas and twenty- 
one gunboats. 

Arnold, profoundly ignorant of the strength and composition 
of the armament which he knew Carleton was preparing and 
unwilling to engage what he had every reason to believe a supe- 
rior force, retreated still further up the lake, anchoring across 
the narrow channel between Valcour's Island and the western 
shore (New York), to await the arrival of the British fleet and 
there test conclusions on the water for the first time. 

It was at an early hour on the morning of October 11 that 
the British fleet appeared off Cumberland Head, and in due time 
it swept around the southern point of Valcour's Island. As the 
•enemy approached General Arnold, who was on the galley "Con- 
gress" (flagship), made a fervent speech. He said this was the 
first time Americans ever had a chance to fight the British on 
water, and if they acquitted themselves as well as they had on 
land he had no fears as to the result of the engagement. The 
boys gave him three cheers which went floating over the broad 
waters, finding echoes in the grand old hills beyond. 

The first shot came richochetting over the wind-perturbed 
waters of the beautiful and hitherto peaceful lake from the 
"Carleton," which at once attacked the "Royal Savage" and 
three galleys farthest advanced from our line. The "Royal 
Savage," in trying to return, went aground, and to save her from 
capture she was set on fire and burned, the crew, however, es- 
caping. General Arnold, on board the "Congress," greatly irri- 
tated over the loss of the "Royal Savage," made for the "Carle- 
ton," firing the first gun with his own hands, and thus was com- 
menced the first naval battle between Americans and Britons. 

It must be remembered that our men were landsmen, know- 
ing little or nothing about sailing or manoeuvring on the water 
while the British force, twice as strong in every respect, was 
composed of sailors taken from ships of war at Quebec. The 
enemy thus possessed infinite advantage. 

Throughout the entire afternoon the battle raged fiercely, 
and although the "Congress" was hulled a dozen times, received 
seven shots between wind and water, the mainmast shattered, the 
rigging cut to pieces, and many of the crew killed or wounded, 
General Arnold, without coat or hat, continued firing. He had 
no thought of giving up, and when not aiming and firing one 



108 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

gun or the other, was busy in signaling to his other vessels, each 
of which was doing its best. 

To make matters worse, the British landed a strong body of 
Indians on the adjacent islands, and when near enough, they 
picked off some of our men. This movement on the part of 
the British had been anticipated by General Arnold, and although 
he sent a few shots into the woods, where nothing could be seen 
except little puffs of smoke, he felt it was dangerous to remain 
in the position, and decided to get away as soon as darkness 
covered the waters. 

When night came both parties stopped fighting and an- 
chored within a few hundred yards of each other. The men were 
literally exhausted. General Arnold, satisfied that he could not 
cope with the British vessels, superior in every way, called his 
officers together for consultation, when it was determined to re- 
tire during the night to Crown Point. 

The British commander, not anticipating such a move on our 
part, anchored his vessels in double lines from the island to the 
main land. This fact, known to General Arnold, was communi- 
cated to his officers, who were given specific instructions as to 
their future action. Fortunately the night was wrapped in Cim- 
merian gloom. This was the only thing that saved us. It en- 
abled Arnold to get out of a bad trap. 

At about ten o'clock our vessels quietly weighed anchor, and 
with a good stiff wind from the north, just what was needed, 
and which was Providential, we boldly sailed entirely unobserved 
through two of the enemy's lines, Arnold bringing up the rear 
in his crippled galley, which had stood the brunt of the battle. It 
was a bold movement, perhaps unparalleled for audacity. 

When daybreak came, after a seemingly interminable night, 
the British must have been thrown into a state of surprise on 
beholding our vessels ten miles away. The exhausted Ameri- 
cans had all they could do to stop the leaks in some of the boats 
to keep them afloat, and a terrible job in trying to repair sails 
and rigging. The British commander, doubtless vexed at the 
remarkable escape, lost no time in weighing anchor and in giving 
pursuit. Although he had sustained losses, he felt confidence 
in his great superiority of men, guns and ships and did not hesi- 
tate to renew the engagement. 

The veering of the wind from the north to the south about 
noon greatly retarded both fleets, and night again coming on, 
anchors were cast. The night, to Arnold's view, was appar- 
ently unending. His men were wet, hungry and absolutely ex- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 109 

hausted. Morning, however, did come, and with it the British 
fleet. General Arnold, finding the enemy fast overhauling him, 
dropped to the rear with the "Congress," "Washington" and 
four gondolas, hoping thus to allow his other vesses to escape. 
When the three largest British vessels — "Carleton." "Inflexible," 
and "Maria" (General Carleton being on the last named), came 
within distance of the American rearguard, they opened a fierce 
fire, to which our folks replied with all the spirit left in them. 
The "Washington" soon struck, her commander, General Water- 
bury, and his crew surrendering. 

Then the three British ships united in an attack upon the 
"Congress." They poured a rain of iron hail upon the Ameri- 
can boats, General Arnold, still undaunted, with a red hand- 
kerchief bound tightly about his head, running from one gun to 
another directing their fire. He was perfectly insensibe to fear, 
and although splinters and shot flew about him, he escaped 
serious wounds. 

For four long hours the British continued their attack upon 
the "Congress," as they knew General Arnold was on board and 
in supreme command. Finally other vessels took part in the 
merciless attack upon the "Congress," and at one time no less 
than seven of the biggest British ships were pouring in a terrible 
fire. 

When Arnold at last saw further resistance was futile, deter- 
mined never to surrender, he ran the "Congress" and his four 
gondolas ashore about ten miles from Crown Point, where he set 
them on fire and waited to see them consumed. He was the last 
man to leave the "Congress," having remained on board to su- 
perintend the removal of the dead and wounded. When the 
men left the vessels they took along muskets and ammunition, 
and it was well they were able to do so, as on the march to 
Crown Point they were suddenly and unexpectedly attacked by 
a body of Indians, with whom they had a stiff fight for an hour, 
finally putting them to flight. 

Notwithstanding the defeat and the disastrous termination 
of the expedition, the efforts of the soldier-sailors were lauded 
throughout the country. Arnold's popularity, gained at Que- 
bec, was immeasurably increased, and the army and people 
shouted his praises. After a few years, he became tired of fight- 
ing for his native land, tried to sell it for a mess of pottage and 
after his perfidy lived and died a man without a country. 



110 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



OPERATIONS OF A NOTED SCOUT. 

ONE of the most daring partisan rangers in the employ of 
this state during the Revolutionary War was Baker Hen- 
dricks, a native of Elizabethtown, a cousin of the Hetfield 
outlaws. In the early part of the war, after the British landed on 
Staten Island, Hendricks efficiently served Washington as a 
scout. His thorough knowledge of cowpaths and trails on the 
island, and an extended acquaintance among the people there, 
qualified him for the dangerous duty of a spy. 

In 1780 Governor Livingston commissioned Hendricks as a 
captain. At this time he was twenty-four years old, and from 
then on till the end of the war, he conducted operations on land 
and on water. 

He soon attracted a number of young men, and fitting out 
two whale-boats, which he named "Flying Squirrel" and 
"Charming Betsy," he became a terror to the refugees on the 
island. 

On one occasion Hendricks, with a dozen men, crossed over 
to the island in the night time to recapture a lot of cattle which 
had been stolen from our people. Being discovered by the 
First Regiment of New Jersey Volunteers (refugees), Hendricks 
was compelled to retire, but he contested every foot of the 
ground from Salter's house to the water. Hendricks was slightly 
wounded while getting into his boat. 

Captain Hendricks was a source of great annoyance to peo- 
ple on Staten Island and Bergen Point, whom he took great 
delight in attacking whenever opportunity presented itself. He 
made frequent trips along the sound, capturing piquets and any 
property that could be used by the Continental Army or the 
militia. 

One very cold night in December, 1782, Hendricks sailed 
into the Kills, and captured a British sloop, armed with two 
small cannon. He took the crew prisoners, and would have 
brought the vessel to this town, but as she ran aground near 
Shooters's Island, the captain stripped her of arms, sails, rig- 
ging, cable, anchor and long boat, and set her on fire. 

It has long been thought that the iron field piece recently 
mounted at Connecticut Farms (Union Village) was one of the 
two cannon captured on this occasion by Captain Hendricks. 

Despite his many adventures and the great injury he in- 
flicted on the enemy on the island and at Bergen Point, he was 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. Ill 

finally suspected of illicit intercourse, and Governor Livings*'-. - 
felt compelled to demand the return of the state commission 
he had three vears before issued to him. 



HETFIELDS CAPTURED TWO OFFICERS. 

THE humiliating defeats sustained by the British force at 
Connecticut Farms June 7, 1870, and again at Springfield 
on the twenty-third of the same month by illy-clad and 
poorly armed farmer boys caused Sir Henry Clinton, the British 
commander-in-chief, to relinquish all further hope of penetrating 
Washington's lines among and beyond the Short Hills, and dur- 
ing the continuance of the war the people in this section enjoyed 
a feeling of comparative safety, notwithstanding the continued 
presence of a large force of the enemy on Staten Island. 

Although no further movements on a large scale were made 
in this direction by the enemy, predatory raids were of frequent 
occurrence. These were chiefly confined to the capture of prom- 
inent citizens, to be held as hostages, and the stealing of cattle. 
The regular British troops took no part in these midnight for- 
ages after the battle of Springfield, the bitter and unforgiving 
refugees from this and other colonies alone participating with 
fiendish glee when successful. Chief among the gangs which 
visited this town repeatedly during 1780, was that led by Cap- 
tain Smith Hetfield and his brother, Captain Cornelius Hetfield. 
who, having been driven from Elizabethtown after the outbreak 
of the war, took refuge on Staten Island, where they were petted 
and encouraged by British commanders for several years. The 
Hetfields attained notoriety by their activity and dare-deviltry. 
Insensible to fear, they had no mercy on those who fell into 
their hands, as was the case with Stephen Ball, a resident of 
Rahway, who, having permission to trade on Staten Island, was 
pursuing his peaceful calling, when he was rudely pounced upon 
and taken prisoner by Cornelius Hetfield, who without judge or 
jury, hung him at Bergen Point, because he was afraid to per- 
petrate the dastard crime on the island, the British commander 
there having refused to adjudge Mr. Ball guilty of being a spy, 
as Hetfield alleged. 

The Hetfield brothers, born in a house still standing at the 
southerly end of Pearl street, and known to our oldest people as 
"Paradise Farm," had an intimate knowledge of this part of the 
country. They were familiar with every nook and crook, and 



112 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

acquainted with nearly every family in what is now circum- 
scribed by the bounds of Union County. 

It was Saturday night, November 4, that Smith and Cor- 
nelius Hetfield and half a dozen other wild and adventurous 
spirits, after crossing the sound in a flat-bottomed scow, di?e 
barked where Tremley now stands, remounted their horses and 
quickly reached Elizabethtown. They came with the avowed 
intention of capturing Colonel Matthias Ogden, of the First 
New Jersey Regiment, and Captain Jonathan Dayton, paymas- 
ter of the Third New Jersey Regiment, whom they had previously 
learned were at their homes there. The Hetfields bitterly hated 
these patriot officers, and had long threatened to punish them. 

Ascertaining that Colonel Ogden and Captain Dayton were 
temporarily stopping at William Herd's home at Connecticut 
Farms, the Hetfield party rode rapidly there, and, surrounding 
the house before the inmates were aware of their presence, they 
burst in the doors and called upon all to surrender. Resistance 
under such circumstances being futile, the two American officers, 
keenly feeling the disgrace of having been thus caught napping, 
hastily made their toilet and surrendered with as much grace as 
possible. 

The Hetfield gang, after binding and gagging the two offi- 
cers, compelled Mrs. Herd to provide a repast, and while she 
was thus engaged, "Pomp," a colored slave, was kept busy in 
serving the party with apple whisky of a prime quality, and on 
which Mr. Herd fondly doted. 

After refreshing themselves the raiders bade their host 
bring forth two of his best horses, and on these animals Colonel 
Ogden and Captain Dayton were mounted for the long and hasty 
ride to Staten Island, which they reached in safety. 



RAHWAY IN THE REVOLUTION. 

WHILE no battle of great consequence was fought in Rah- 
way( then called Spanktown) during the eight years of 
the Revolutionary War, the people of that patriotic vil- 
lage neglected no opportunity of serving the patriot cause. The 
place was frequently raided by the enemy from Staten Island 
and Woodbridge, and the most prominent citizens carried off 
as hostages. 

The hardest battle in Rahway took place early in January, 
1777, when General William Maxwell, with his Jersey brigade. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 113 

came down from the Short Hills, and attacked a strong regi- 
ment of British regulars posted there. 

After a two hours' fight, the enemy was driven out of Rail- 
way in the direction of Woodbridge. 

General Maxwell, feeling that he could not hold the place 
in the event of an advance of the enemy from Woodbridge, took 
possession of one thousand bushels of salt, a condiment sadly 
needed by the American troops, and had scarcely loaded it on 
wagons for transportation to our lines, when a large force sud- 
denly came up from Woodbridge, necessitating the retreat of 
the Americans to Elizabethtown, which was successfuly accom- 
plished. 

The winter of 1779-80 was one of awful severity. Snow 
fell in January to a depth of five or six feet, while the waters 
surrounding Staten Island were frozen so solid that the ice af- 
forded better means of locomotion than the few unbeaten road* 
ways. This ice-bridge made it easy for the British and tories on 
Staten Island to cross and re-cross as inclination led them. 

It was on Sunday night, January 30, that a small force of 
mounted refugees (traitorous Jerseymen) crossed over from 
Staten Island, and dashed into Railway before their presence was 
discovered. 

Lieutenant Wynantz and eight privates who had been en- 
trusted by Colonel Jaques with the protection of the village 
instead of attending to guard duty, were out on a sleigh-riding 
excursion, and when the British commander learned a fandango 
was in progress at Lindsley's corner, he and his party galloped 
to the spot, and surrounding the hostelry, summoned the revelers 
to surrender, which they did with as much grace as possible. 

After the lieutenant and his men had been disarmed and 
secured, the Britishers bade the musicians strike up, and, each 
seizing a girl, went through a mazy waltz. 

This concluded, the British officer thanked the young ladies 
for the pleasure afforded, and securing the American soldiers 
within their own handsome sleighs, the enemy drove awav, leav- 
ing the disappointed Rahway lasses to get to their homes the 
best way they could. 

Before daylight the American warriors crossed the sound 
on the ice at Tremley's Point, and on the following day went on 
to New York City, where their arrival created much amusement 
amonsr the British soldiers. 



114 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



HOW SOLDIER TRAPPED BANDIT. 

WHILE the people of New Jersey were sorely tried during 
the Revolutionary War by almost constant raids of 
British soldiers and renegade Jerseymen who took re- 
fuge on Staten Island, shortly after the landing there of the 
British army in 1776, and greatly suffered by the loss of cattle 
and movable property, their condition was scarcely worse than 
that of the inhabitants in Monmouth and other counties along 
the coast. 

The pine-tree country especially was infested in those trou- 
blous times by numerous bands of robbers, who lived in caves 
burrowed in the side of the sand hills, as near swamps and in 
such secluded spots as could be found. These caves, carefully 
covered with brush, were scarcely discernible, even at a short 
distance, while the trails leading to the retreats were disguised 
as much as posible by the crafty robbers, who preyed upon rich 
and poor alike. 

The inhabitants, living in a constant state of terror, were 
compelled, for their own safety, to go armed, whether at work- 
in the fields or at the house of worship. 

The acts of these marauders at length became so numerous 
and audacious that Governor Livingston offered large rewards 
for their death or capture. During the last three years of the 
war the desperadoes were hunted and shot like wild beasts, and 
when peace was declared but few of the villains were alive, so 
thorough had been the work of extirpation. 

Among the more notorious villains who gloated in crime 
was a fellow known as Fenton, a big strapping fellow, who in 
his youth, learned the trade of a blacksmith in Freehold. When 
the war broke out he quit honest work and organized a gang, 
which took refuge in the sand hills, near Red Bank. From this 
covert he and his men sailed out at night for robbery and rapine 
On one occasion Fenton robbed the shop of a tailor, carrying 
away much apparel. Word was sent to Fenton that unless he 
surrendered the stolen goods within a week, he would be shot 
on sight. He complied, accompanying the return of the goods 
with the following note : 

"I have returned your damned rags. In a short time I 
am coming to burn your barns and homes, and roast you all 
alike as a pack of kittens." 

It was in August, 1779, that Fenton and his gang attacked 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 115 

the dwelling of Thomas Fair, near where Imlaystown now 
stands. Mr. Farr and wife, both aged people, and a daughter 
barricaded the door with logs of wood, and the gang being un- 
able to force an entrance into the house, fired a volley of rifle 
bullets, one of which wounded Mr. Farr, rendering him helpless. 

The gang finally gained entrance by a back door, and mur- 
dered Mrs. Farr, then finished their fiendish work by beating 
her husband to death as he lay upon the floor. The daughter 
although badly wounded, succeeded in getting away and reach- 
ing the home of a neighbor, two miles distant. The murderers 
fearing pursuit, incontinently fled, and in their haste to secure 
safety, left the plunder behind. 

Fenton, after perpetrating many enormities, and in making 
his name a terror to people in South Jersey, was finally killed 
near where Blue Belle is located. 

Fenton and his confederate, Burke, beat and robbed a young 
miller named Van Mater of his dinner while on his way to 
work. Van Mater, although suffering from injuries received at 
the hands of Fenton and Burke, made his way to Freehold 
where he reported the outrage to the commandant of a portion 
of Lee's Legion, then on duty in that section. 

The lieutenant at once detailed a sergeant and two soldiers 
to accompany Van Mater, who was sure Fenton and Burke 
were at a groggery, near where the assault took place. A 
wagon was procured, on the bottom of which lay the two armed 
soldiers, covered with hay, while the sergeant, acting as driver, 
and Van Mater sat on the seat in front. 

True enough, as the vehicle reached the groggery, Fenton 
came out, pistol in hand, and ordered them to stop, saying to 
Van Mater: "You damned rascal! I gave you such a lickin' 
I thought you would never agin show your head. Where are 
you goin'?" 

"To the salt works," was the reply. 

"Have you got any brandy?" asked Fenton. 

"Yes! Will you have a drink?" asked Van Mater, handing 
him a bottle. 

Fenton was in the act of taking a drink when the sergeant 
touched the foot of a soldier, who sprang up and shot the des- 
perado through the head, scattering it over the side of the 
vehicle. 

Burke, who was in the woods nearby, hearing the report of 
the soldier's gun, and supposing it to be a signal from his pal. 
discharged his rifle in answer. 



116 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

The sergeant and his men hastened in the direction of the 
sound, and when Burke saw them approaching he took to his 
heels, making good his escape. 

The soldiers, returning to the wagon, threw Fenton's car- 
cass into the vehicle and drove with all possible speed to Free- 
hold, where they jerked out the corpse by the feet, as if it had 
been a wild animal, and, throwing it upon the ground, said to 
the crowd which had assembled : "Here is a cordial for you 
lories and wood robbers." 



GUNS AND POWDER IN REVOLUTION. 

IT is not generally known that the active train of field artillery 
possessed by the American colonies at the commencement 

of the Revolutionary War consisted of but four guns. A 
few weeks after the battle of Lexington, General Artemas Ward, 
in assuming command of the Revolutionists, then besieging Bos- 
ton, found only one six-pounder and half a dozen three-pound- 
ers, all smooth-bores, in possession of his forces. Had not 
Ethan Allen captured Fort Ticonderoga, with its 200 guns, the 
siege of Boston and the battle of Breed's Hill (misnamed Bunker 
Hill) would have been a miserable fiasco and a lamentable fail- 
ure. It must have been painful and humiliating to General Gage, 
the British commander, whenever he heard a Yankee gun in 
that battle, to realize that it was his "own thunder." 

While other colonies may have turned out revolutionary, 
cannon before the establishment of furnaces and foundries in 
New Jersey, our commonwealth early in the war chiefly supplied 
Washington's army with ordinance, and, I may add, powder as 
well. This was done at Mt. Hope and Hibernia, in Morris 
County, where the necessary materials were conveniently at 
hand. 

The first cannon constructed in New Jersey were iron and 
of primitive pattern, owing to the difficulty of securing designs. 
The first castings, made in Morris County, were moulded from 
guns taken at Ticonderoga, and it was not until the beautiful 
field pieces, some of them brass, surrendered by Burgoyne at 
Saratoga, could be taken to Morris County that our people were 
able to secure desirable models and turn out weapons more to 
their liking. 

One of the first guns cast at Mount Hope can now be seen 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 117 

mounted on wheels near the old Presbyterian Church at Con- 
necticut Farms. It was probably used for the first time in the 
battle there June 7, 1780. 

Our little army was in desperate straits for artillery when. 
Washington was driven through New Jersey late in the fall of 
1776, and the capture of six splendid field guns at Trenton 
Christmas night gave the greatest cause for rejoicing to the 
patriots. But their loss, with five other guns, at Brandywine 
later on had a most depressing and disheartening effect on our 
people. 

While New Jersey may be said to have led the way in the 
manufacture of field artillery, however crude in form and finish, 
it can also be stated to the credit of its enterprising and patriotic 
citizens that our commonwealth was the first to respond to 
Washington's stirring appeal for a supply of gunpowder. It 
was the great want of powder at Bunker Hill, more than any- 
thing else, that caused the failure of our brave little army to 
drive back the trained British host. 

Strange as it may appear, the first supply of powder sent 
to Washington, at Cambridge, was forwarded him by the ener- 
getic Public Safety Committee of Elizabethtown. This was 
purchased by the committee in Philadelphia, a round price being 
demanded by the "patriots" of that town. This supply, fifty 
quarter kegs, was brought to Elizabethtown in wagons, and 
sent on by other teams, which went to Cambridge by way of 
Dobbs' Ferry, over the Hudson River. Washington expressed 
fervent thanks to the Elizabethown people for the "timely con- 
tribution." 

The Elizabethtown committee in July, 1775, to encourage 
the manufacture of saltpeter and gunpowder, as well as to aid 
the patriotic army, to whose interests it was devoted, publicly 
offered to pay $1,000 for every 100 pounds of saltpeter made 
within the town limits. This had the effect of promptly starting 
the manufacture of that commodity, the old mill on South Broad 
Street, on the left bank of the river, just below the Court House 
which John Ogden, one of the first settlers, had erected there in 
1665, being used for the purpose. 

In less than two months after the battle of Bunker Hill 
the Elizabethown committee forwarded to Washington nearly 
seven tons of powder manufactured in the town, and received a 
graceful letter of thanks from the commander-in-chief, who ex- 
pressed the opinion that the arrival of the cargo had "immeasur- 
ably revived the hopes of the army and relieved immediate press- 



118 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

ing necessities." When this supply reached Washing-ton his 
soldiers had but nine rounds each in their cartridge boxes. 

This cargo of powder was conveyed to the army in wagons, 
drawn by horses and oxen, nearly two weeks being consumed 
in the long journey. To allay supicion on the part of the curi- 
ously inclined, the kegs were well covered with grain and hay. 

The odd-looking caravan, which reached Cambridge with- 
out mishap, was joyfully hailed by the soldiers, as well as by 
Washington and his officers, and during the brief sojourn of the 
Elizabethtown farmer boys, they were the recipients of much 
attention and many courtesies from the soldiers. 



HEROIC ACTION OF GRANDSON. 

EASTERN NEW JERSEY, from the time the British landed 
on the easterly shore of Staten Island to the end of the 
war in 1783, suffered greatly from incursions of the British 
troops and their willing allies, Americans who preferred the 
rule of King George to the enjoyment of liberty and indepen- 
dence. The tories, or renegades, or refugees, or loyal Americans, 
as they liked to call themselves, took up arms against their 
former neighbors, friends and kin. Some of them delighted in 
annoying and robbing their relatives, but in no section of the 
state were the atrocities so bad and numerous as in the county 
of Monmouth, where families were so divided that fathers and 
sons took different sides, and in some cases fought each other 
to death. 

The patriots of Monmouth County, from Freehold to the 
coast, were in a constant state of alarm and terror, owing to the 
large number of refugees who lived on the proceeds of their 
crimes. Most of these murderers and robbers lived in caves bur- 
rowed in the sand, while others found safety in dense swamps 
and in the pine tree thickets. 

I have already given chapters of bloody crimes committed 
by some of the gangs infesting that region, and will supplement 
them by narrating a murderous raid made by refugees and 
negroes from Sandy Hook in April, 1780. The banditti landed 
from boats at Shrewsbury, and plundered several houses. 

The landing was made just after dusk, when some of the 
raiders, natives of Shrewsbury and thoroughly acquainted with 
the people and the country round about, repaired to the home 
of William Russell, who attempted to defend his home and a 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 119 

young grandson, who happened to be with him at the time. Mr. 
Russell, although sixty years of age and quite infirm, opened 
fire on the gang, which so enraged the attacking party that it 
made a rush for the dwelling, and, bursting in the door, seized 
the old man whom they were in the act of murdering, when 
young Russell, who lay wounded upon the floor, raised himself 
up and shot William Gillian, who had his grandfather by the 
throat. John Farmham, like Gillian, a native of the village, then 
aimed his musket at young Russell, but as the weapon was dis- 
charged, Joshua Lippincott, one of the band, a relative of the 
boy, knocked up the barrel and thus saved his life. 

The gang, after seizing all the plunder they could take with 
them, captured Captain Warner of the privateer brig "Eliza- 
beth," who secured his release by giving the marauders two jugs 
of rum. Other citizens, however, were not so fortunate, and 
among those taken as prisoners were Captain James Green and 
Ensign John Morris, of the militia, and several citizens. 



DIED FOR THE CAUSE. 

CAPTAIN JOSHUA HUDDY, who, during the Revolu- 
tionary War, lived at what is now Colt's Neck, within five 
miles of Freehold, in Monmouth County, was a daring 
patriot, and gave his life for the cause of American liberty. He 
performed many gallant acts during the war, and punished the 
tories in that section at every opportunity. 

During the summer of 1780 a large party of refugees landed 
at Black Point, between Shrewsbury and Navesink rivers, and 
made a desperate attack at night on his dwelling. The assailants 
were commanded by a negro named Tye or Titus. Captain 
Huddy and a servant-girl named Lucretia Emmons, age twenty 
years, were the only occupants of the house. 

Fortunately for Captain Huddy, several muskets had been 
left in the house by the home-guard, generally on duty in the 
vicinity, but who at the moment were absent at their homes, 
and these the captain, with the aid of Miss Emmons, who kept 
the weapons loaded, made good use of. Huddy, to deceive 
the enemy, discharged the guns from different windows, convey- 
ing the impression that the guards were assisting him in the 
defense. Huddy wounded several of the gang, and at last 
seriously wounded Tye in the arm, from the effects of which 
he subsequently died. When wounded, Tye was in the act of set- 



120 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

ting fire to Huddy's home. Finding the flames gaining great 
headway, and desirous of saving the life of the young woman 
who had rendered great assistance, Huddy raised a white flag, 
and offered to surrender, providing the enemy would extinguish 
the flames and save his house from destruction. 

The assailants were glad to comply with the request, but 
on entering the habitation worked themselves into a state of 
exasperation on finding the garrison consisted solely of Huddy 
and the girl. 

It was with great difficulty that Tye could restrain his gang 
from murdering Huddy and Miss Emmons. Hearing of the 
hurried approach of militiamen, Tye bade Miss Emmons leave the 
place, then binding Huddy and collecting his cattle and sheep, the 
party fled precipitately. The militiamen gave rapid pursuit, killing 
six of the desperadoes and wounding several others. The stolen 
cattle were recovered at the first creek, which Tye and his gang 
hastily forded. 

Tye and his gang had scarcely embarked in their boats 
when the militiamen reached the bank and opened a destruc- 
tive fire. Huddy, overjoyed at the appearance of his friends, 
sprang into the water and swam ashore, thus escaping impris- 
onment, if nothing worse. 

In March, 1782, Huddy, in command of a block house at 
Tom's River, found himself attacked by a large force of tories 
from New York and Staten Island. He made a stubborn and 
gallant resistance, fighting until his ammunition was exhausted, 
when he reluctantly surrendered. Huddy was heavily ironed 
and imprisoned on a British guard ship at Sandy Hook, while 
his men were confined in the sugar house in New York City, 
and not exchanged until the end of the war. 

While confined on the ship Captain Huddy was told that 
he was to be hanged for having captured Philip White, a noto- 
rious tory in Monmouth County, cut off both his arms, pulled 
out one of his eyes, broke his legs, damned him and then bid him 
run. Huddy indignantly denied the allegation, saying he was 
a prisoner in New York at the time, and had been for several 
weeks before White was maltreated. Although his statement was 
corroborated by several of his comrades, Huddy, four days 
afterward (April 12") was taken by sixteen tories (some of them 
former neighbors) commanded by Captain Lippincott, to the 
seashore at the foot of Navesink Hills, a mile north of the pres- 
ent Highland lighthouses, and deliberately executed. While 
standing upon a barrel under a gallows made of three rails 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 121 

placed on the beach, with a rope about his neck, Captain Huddy 
asked for pen, ink and paper, and wrote his will, his handwriting 
being plainer than usual, so much composed was he in his last 
moments on earth. 

To the credit of some of the executioners be it said they 
objected to the hanging, declaring it was their belief that Huddy 
was an innocent man. Captain Lippincott, on learning this fact, 
drew his sword and swore he would kill the first man who dis- 
obeyed his orders. The mutineers were cowed, and Captain 
Huddy's body soon dangled between earth and sky. 

The next day the corpse was cut down, removed to Free- 
hold, and buried with the honors of war, a large body of minute- 
men attending. And this finished a brave man and determined 
patriot. 



ATTEMPTS TO CAPTURE GENERALS. 

FROM time immemorial attempts have been made by ad- 
venturous spirits to capture generals in time of war. The 
first attempt of this kind in this country was in 1777, 
just previous to the battle of Long Island, when, for British gold, 
a number of so-called Americans, including a Continental soldier 
named Thomas Hickey, conspired to seize and carry off General 
Washington, who had his headquarters in New York City. The 
nefarious plan failed, because a woman devoted to the cause of 
American liberty, overheard the conspirators and was enabled to 
thwart their designs. Hickey, who was on duty at Washington's 
headquarters, and had been very active in furthering the scheme, 
was tried, found guilty and hung. 

The capture of General Prescott, a petty tyrant, commanding 
the British force on Rhode Island, a month later than the Wash- 
ington incident, was one of the most successful affairs of the kind 
ever attempted. Prescott was one of the most tyrannical 
commanders that England ever sent to this country. He was 
of aristocratic birth and a favorite with George III. His over- 
bearing and haughty manners, together with his lack of human 
sympathy, so incensed Rhode Islanders against him that Lieuten- 
ant-Colonel William Barton, a native of Providence serving in 
the Continental Army, decided to attempt his capture, and thus 
rid his friends at home of his unwelcome presence. 

The British general, on reaching Rhode Island, had taken 



122 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

possession of the spacious house and grounds of a Quaker named 
Overring, located five miles above Newport, and Colonel Barton, 
having learned this fact, organized a party from his regiment, 
and embarking in four whale boats, speedily crossed Narragan- 
set Bay from Massachusetts, despite the presence of several 
British frigates and guard-boats patroling the smooth waters. 
Landing without detection, Colonel Barton and his men seized 
and gagged the sentinels at the foot of the British general's 
garden, and speedily gained his quarters. The tyrant, undressed 
and in bed, supposing the intruders to be robbers, sprang out 
and grabbed his gold watch hanging on the wall, instead of a 
sword with which to defend himself, when the American leader 
coolly told him he was a prisoner. The general begged per- 
mission to put on his uniform, but the Yankee soldiers, having 
no time to waste and the weather being warm, bade him throw 
a cloak around him., saying he could make his toilet after reach- 
ing the American lines across the bay. The boldness of the 
act and its successful issue proved the theme of conversation in 
the camps of both armies for a long time afterwards. Prescott 
was kindly treated while in confinement, and on being exchanged 
in the following spring, had a better opinion of the character and 
ability of American soldiers. I regret to say that Prescott was 
delivered in exchange for Major-General Charles Lee, of the 
American Army, a traitor to Washington, who had allowed him- 
self to be captured in 1776 in this State, where he was loitering 
instead of going to the assistance of Washington, who had repeat- 
edly sent him orders to hasten his march. Had Lee been held 
by the British until the end of the war, which no true American 
would have ever regretted, Washington would have won a more 
brilliant victory at Monmouth, and Lee might have saved his 
reputation as an Englishman who had been honored more than 
he deserved by the American Congress. 

When Washington ascertained that Benedict Arnold was 
located in New York City he asked Major Harry Lee ("Light 
Horse Harry"), who had one hundred and fifty New Jersey 
farmer boys in his command, to send him a man who was com- 
petent and willing to go to New York and attempt his capture. 
Major Lee quickly made the selection — that of John Champe, a 
Virginia boy, who had been with him since his Legion was 
formed. Champe, regarded as one of the best soldiers in the 
army, was sergeant-major of the command, and a thorough drill- 
master and tactician. He did not altogether like the proposi- 
tion made to him by his commander, because it necessitated 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 123 

""desertion." a crime exceedingly repulsive to his patriotic in- 
stincts. 

Space here will not permit me to narrate the many intensely 
interesting incidents connected with Champe's departure from 
the quiet camp at midnight, nor of his lonely ride from Tappan, 
nor tell of the pursuit by his comrade horsemen, who nearly cap- 
tured him at what is now Communipaw, as he sprang from his 
wearied horse, and waded through the salt marsh to the water, 
where, fortunately for his undertaking, he was picked up by 
British galleys patroling along the shore. 

Sir Henry Clinton, before whom he was promptly taken, in- 
terrogated Champe at length, and becoming satisfied that it was a 
sign of the disintegration of the patriot army, advised him to cah 
upon Arnold, now a general in the King's Army and engaged in 
the task of raising a command composed of loyalists and 
deserters. 

After much persuasion on the part of Arnold, who was fami- 
liar with Champe's services, the latter acceded to the traitor's 
request and became a member of the Legion. 

After a few days Champe succeeded in delivering two let- 
ters from Washington to correspondents in the city, who at once 
agreed to aid him in the abduction of Arnold. The very day 
Champe was to carry his plan into execution Arnold took pos- 
session of other quarters to oversee the embarkation of troops 
on an expedition, and that night, instead of rowing Arnold across 
the Hudson River as a prisoner, Champe found himself on board 
a British transport bound South. Landing in Virginia, he made 
repeated attempts to escape but did not succeed until Arnold 
formed a junction with Cornwallis at Petersburg, where he got 
away, and tramping westwardly, reached the Blue Ridge Moun- 
tains, where he remained until he learned of the approach of Lee's 
horsemen (his old command), which he immediately joined in 
South Carolina. His former comrades, surprised to again see 
him, gave him a hearty welcome when they learned the true story 
of his "desertion." 

Years afterwards, when President Adams appointed Wash- 
ington to the chief command of the army, the latter sent to 
Colonel Lee for intelligence of Champe, having decided to appoint 
him a captain in the army, but the gallant soldier had long since, 
after removing to the wilds of Kentucky, slept the sleep that 
knows no waking 

During the Civil War there were several instances of like 
character, perhaps the most exciting being the capture of General 



124 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Stoughton by Mosby and his rangers, and the attempt of the 
same command to carry off Sir Percy Wyndham, colonel of the 
famous First New Jersey Cavalry. In the case of Stoughton, 
who was in bed in camp in the midst of his command, Mosby 
with a few men, passing themselves off as the Fifth New York 
Cavalry, entered the house where the general was soundly 
sleeping. Awakened by a noise, and hearing Mosby's name 
mentioned, he asked: "Have you got him?" 

"He's got you," replied the imperturbable Mosby, and Stough- 
ton, finding resistance useless, quietly accompanied the ranger 
away. 



Historical Sketches of the Revolutionary 
and Civil Wars. 



PART II.— THE CIVIL WAR. 



THE GREAT UPRISING IN '61. 

NEARLY half a century has passed since the shot at the 
starry banner on Sumter, heard 'round the world, 
called to the field of bitter strife the young men who 
saved our government from destruction and our beautiful 
land from chaos. 

Those who were permitted to take an active part in the 
greatest conflict recorded in history, were bright-faced and in 
the hey-day of youth, when, in response to the call of the 
country, they left happy homes to battle for the preservation of 
the best form of government ever vouchsafed to man. 

The pen must ever glow when picturing the scenes in the 
early part of 1861. From the cleft and burdened head of Jove 
sprang forth Pallas, a perfect warrior. But from the burdened 
Union, rent in twain, leaped forth, from every country lane, street 
and avenue, not one, but thousands of our best and bravest 
citizens, whose hurrying tread soon shook the earth, while 
the air that had echoed only to the songs of birds, or the sounds 
of commerce, resounded with the strains of martial music and 
patriotic chorus, and new banners waved like leaves on the 
trees of our forests, and gleaming bayonets flashed from the rising 
of the sun to the going down thereof. The volunteers who 
thus nobly responded came from college, office, work-shop, farm, 
mill and factory, as well as from the mines whose ores were 
being delved to forge instruments of war, determined to lend 
their best efforts in resisting the reckless men who were 
striving to subvert the Nation's liberties. 

Those who activelv participated in that great strife, too well 
remember the dark hours of that terrible and seemingly never- 



126 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

ending struggle for the perpetuity of the American Union. How 
awful was the anxiety and anguish of that trying' period ! The 
seasons rolled on, year after year, in their varying and beauteous 
course. But -the beauty of the spring-time was lost in the re- 
flection that many of our best and bravest comrades were melt- 
ing away even as the snows of winter. The charm of summer 
faded with the thought that loved ones were dropping under 
the heat of battle. The loveliness of autumn cheered our weary 
hearts only for a moment, while winter came to disturb blissful 
sleep, bringing hunger, cold, prison, wounds and death. 

The sun, since Time began, has looked upon no nobler deeds 
than those we witnessed between 1861 and 1865, and good old 
Mother Earth has bred no nobler men than those who fell beside 
us in the cause of Liberty. They died gloriously, leaving their 
heroic deeds, their principles, and their worthy example as a 
heritage to their country and to posterity. By that curious 
moral consanguinity which binds together men who have stood 
shoulder to shoulder under fire, we are their next of kin, and so 
become trustees of this rich heritage. 

We live in times abounding with evil portents. The 
public virtue shows conspicuous evidence of decay ; the dykes 
which protect society and the State against the turbid tides 
of corruption and extravagance seem to be giving way ; our 
public and private life is disclosing spectacles of rottenness 
at which we may well stand aghast. But if we are drifting 
from the moorings of virtue and duty toward perilous mael- 
stroms, let us remember that it is because the ship itself is unsea- 
worthy. 

The life of this nation — the quality of our law and our gov- 
ernment, are just what the people make them — nothing more — 
nothing less. They are the source of all power ; with them 
rests absolutely the determination of the national character and 
influence. If the people lose faith in themselves, or in the 
principles of liberty, justice, integrity and fair play ; if they neg- 
lect the performance of individual obligations and duties ; if they 
permit the spring to be poisoned, either through neglect or indif- 
ference, they cannot complain if the perverted and deadly tor- 
rent sweeps them headlong into ruin. You cannot stay the 
Mississippi where it sweeps with majestic flow to its massage 
with the gulf, but far away among the firm hills, where it has 
its source, you can gather all its waters into your palms and 
divert them as you will. 

If, then, we would restore the tone of the public morals ; 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 127 

if we would make our public and private life pure, upright and 
potent in all wholesome influences ; if we would make our flag 
honorable, because it represents a people strong in all the ele- 
ments that help constitute a perfect manhood — we must carry 
with us everywhere as individuals that reverence for principle 
and for essential ideas of polity, that allegiance to the right in 
all its forms which animated and controlled us when danger 
pressed, and our nation, stripped bare to the eye of God, lay 
smitten in the dust, supplicating that favor which alone is per- 
fect life. 

If we continue to maintain freedom for every citizen of this 
great Republic, and transmit the institutions we fought for, and 
my brave comrades died to save, in all their vigor and purity, to 
those who come after us, we shall have done all that is required, 
and so proven true to the trust which we accepted by their death, 
Then, when the coming years have passed us by, so swiftly 
and silently that they have had to scatter snow upon heads that 
are now whitened, and plow our faces with yet deeper furrows 
to let us know that they were once with us in peril, it may be 
permitted us to see through the twilight what others may not 
see, the mighty spirits of dead comrades rising above their 
ashes, where they fell, standing, like tall, heroic sentinels, to 
guard our land from ill. 

Let us hope that we shall have no more to do with war ; but 
bv the hour of our grief, by the memory of our dead, by the 
never-ending sorrow of the living, for the honor of our country 
and our dear flag, and for the sake of American manhood, let 
us strive to keep this land the heritage of those who love Lib- 
erty and free institutions. 

Let me add that all remaining energies, all our talents, 
should be used to perpetuate this, the happiest model of a gov- 
ernment which enlightened man, in the fullest fruition of his 
most cultivated powers ever erected to the genius of civiliza- 
tion. Let us continue it — the blessed asylum to which the 
victims of oppression, as they look up from beneath the grind- 
ing despotism of the old world, may turn their eyes with a new 
hope, as the one bright clime where Freedom rears her crest 
in full and free defiance, while each clustering star shall remain 
in full, clear and cloudless majesty, brilliant and beautiful as 
when first they beamed their morning splendor to illuminate 
the world with a day-dream from on high. 



128 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



FAST AND LOOSE IN DIXIE; OR GENERAL DRAKE'S 
LEAP FOR LIBERTY. 




"Stone walls do not a prison make, 
Nor iron bars a cage." 

N that April morn in 1861, when the dread 
tocsin sounded in response to the first 
proclamation of President Lincoln, calling 
for 75,000 volunteers, with 3,000 patriotic 
New Jerseymen, in the flush of young 
~^"kJk$R& '**^<r manhood, I raised the first company in my 
native state, and hastened to the defense 
of the Nation's Capital, then in supreme 
danger, and for four long years, without 
losing a day's duty, or missing a march 
or battle, served my country in a cheerful 
manner to the best of my ability. 
I will not tax the reader's patience by attempting to describe 
the numerous battles in which my regiment, the Ninth New 
Jersey, engaged, nor the long and fatiguing marches we made 
during that long period of time, but give a chapter or two from 
my experiences in various prison-pens, and a brief account of a 
tramp I made, accompanied by three companions, through three 
states of the Southern Confederacy, from near Charleston, South 
Carolina, to the Union lines at Knoxville, Tennessee, a distance 
of nearly 1,000 miles, requiring seven weeks in the accomplish- 
ment of the self-imposed task. 

Captured with most of a company I had commanded for more 
than a year, in the terrible conflict at Drewry's Bluff, which I 
was first to assail, at an early hour on the morning of May 16, 
1864, by a brigade of Alabamians, led by General Archie Gracie, 
whom I had known in my boyhood, I was, with the portion of 
my command, which had been unable to escape, promptly es- 
corted over the gory field, to the wharf under the frowning bat- 
tlements of impregnable Fort Darling, which grimly overlooked 
the majestic James River, at a height of nearly two hundred feet. 
Two hours afterwards myself and sorrowing companions 
disembarked from a gunboat at Rockett's Wharf in Richmond, 
where a mob had gathered to witness our arrival. The tumultu- 
ous crowd of stay-at-homes, who had been in fear all the week, 
had evidently gained courage on hearing no further sounds of 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 129 

the battle which had been in progress since daybreak seven miles 
below the Confederate Capital, as we were greeted with hoots, 
jeers and cat-calls. 

A short walk brought us to a large brick building, in rear 
of which tranquilly flowed the James River and the ever placid 
Kanawha Canal. Over a low door in the northeastern corner 
of this carefully guarded structure I read the ominous sign :. 
"Libby & Son, Ship Chandlers and Grocers," and my heart be- 
came sorely disquieted, as I knew that thousands of noble and 
patriotic Union soldiers who had entered the yawning portal 
had left hope behind when the iron-clad door swung to with an 
alarming clang at their heels. 

I will not dwell on the wretched condition of our prisoners 
during their captivity. Their sad fate is the theme of story and 
of song, and none but the callous-hearted refuse to drop a tear 
to their memory. 

After registering in this uninviting hostelry, "Dick" Tur- 
ner, the heartless keeper, unlike any hotel clerk I had ever before 
met, relieved us of whatever valuables we had not been stripped 
of on the battle-field, greenbacks and jewelry being especially 
preferred. Turner, however, sought to relieve our minds by 
giving assurance that the articles thus taken would be returned 
on our departure. But our keeper had a bad memory, and we 
lost our deposits. 

Besides retaining our treasure, Turner showed utter unfit- 
ness to entertain gentlemen, and one of his characteristics was 
to serve a very poor bill of fare. It was the same menu day after 
day, when he didn't forget his guests entirely, which he fre- 
quently did. I might add that none of Turner's boarders were 
afflicted with gout. 

At an early hour one morning in June, when the sweet 
music of General Grant's guns was thundering through the Wil- 
derness, and we were confidently expecting to see our cavalry 
dashing up and surrounding our prison-house, we were rudely 
awakened by Turner and his unceremonious guards, hustled 
into the street, and hurried across the Mayo Bridge to Man- 
chester, where we embarked on a train of filthy cattle cars. 

One thousand of our enlisted men, mere wrecks of them- 
selves, scarcely able to stand, much less walk, joined us here 
They came from Belle Isle, a low-lying sand bar in the middle 
of the James River, where they had nearly perished from cold 
and hunger. Then we started on a long and fatiguing ride 
towards the Gulf— the officers for Macon, Georgia, the enlisted 



130 HISTORICx\L SKETCHES OF THE 

men for Andersonville. Five-sixths of the latter never left that 
hell-spot. 

Soon after my incarceration at Macon, plans to escape were 
formed, the consideration of which relieved us from ennui, if 
nothing further was gained. At Macon and Savannah tunnel- 
ing projects requiring indomitable resolution and painful labor 
were cheerfully entered upon, and tireless efforts put forth to 
achieve success. Our labors proved futile. Mountains of diffi- 
culty were overcome by men whose souls aspired to breathe the 
air of freedom ; but treachery generally accomplished the ruin 
of promising projects, and adverse fate paralyzed the strong 
arms which were ever ready to execute noble purposes. If our 
keepers failed in their vigilance to detect our enterprising exca- 
vations, some detestible comrade (?) with a greed for Confeder- 
ate favors would convey to them information of our operations. 
More than once during that long and never-to-be-forgotten 
summer did I work through seemingly interminable night in 
digging tunnels, and skulk to the space alloted me in the pen 
just as daybreak came peeping in, with my hands bleeding and 
my strength exhausted, only to find in the end that some con- 
temptible poltroon had treacherously betrayed our plans. 

At Macon eighteen hundred commissioned officers cele- 
brated the Fourth of July as they had never done before. While 
the Confederate guards were engaged in the usual morning count 
to ascertain whether all were present my gallant comrade. Cap- 
tain Harry H. Todd, of the Eighth New Jersey, took from his 
pocket-book a miniature silk American flag given him by a 
young lady of Jersey City, and holding it above his head, waved 
it at the Confederates. The excitement following beggars des- 
cription. The Confederate officers made attempts to capture the 
tiny flag, but they could not force themselves to where the Cap- 
tain stood. Then army songs were sung as never before, and 
speeches followed. All in all, it was the most exciting Fourth I 
ever experienced. 

When the yellow-fever reached its worst stage in Septem 
ber, we were transported from Savannah to Charleston — myself 
and others being thrown into the jail-yard. 

In the jail-yard I was afforded delectable accommodations 
at the foot of the scaffold, with a spot of earth three feet by six. 
and here I was compelled to remain during the long and dreary 
days and nights, with no covering save the star-spangled firma- 
ment. The black hole of Calcutta, or the sugar-house in New 
York during the occupancy of that city by the British in the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 131 

War of the Revolution, could not have been more uninviting 
places than the jail-yard at the time I occupied an infinitesimal 
space within its high and gloomy brick walls. The almost con- 
stantly bursting shells from the "Swamp Angel," which sent its 
screaming compliments to us, had some terrors, but they sunk 
into insignificance when the dangers from "Yellow-Jack" were 
considered. The Charleston jail-yard was a noisome spot — a 
fetid place — a circumscribed world. 

My thoughts weighed heavily upon me during my cap- 
tivity, but never so painfully as at Charleston, where I had no 
diversion, even tunneling being out of the question. I had no 
correspondence with my family or friends, and was profoundly 
ignorant of events transpiring in the outer world. A newspaper 
or a book would have been a friend to consult, or an adversary 
to combat; but I was shut out from all that was light and joy 
and brightness, and forced to live with my bitterest enemy — 
Thought. And how oppressive was that feeling which continu- 
ally spoke to me of my desperate and forlorn condition. 

Early in October rumors prevailed that we were to be 
removed to another point, and believing an opportunity for 
escape would present itself I invited three friends — Captain 
Harry H. Todd, 8th New Jersey; Captain Alfred Grant, 19th 
Wisconsin, and Captain J. E. Lewis, 11th Connecticut — to join 
me in an attempt to regain the freedom we ardently coveted, 
and for which we had repeatedly toiled. Providentially, we 
found a portion of an old map of South Carolina, and after care- 
fully studying it, quickly decided upon a plan of action. 

Next morning, October sixth, six hundred of our number 
were marshalled and marched to the railroad station, where we 
took passage on dilapidated cars attached to a rickety, wheez- 
ing, wood-burning locomotive. As our long train passed slowly 
along the outskirts of the pestilential city, we saw a camp on 
the old race-course, filled with the most wretched looking beings 
it ever fell to my lot to look upon. They were Union soldiers, 
prisoners of war. 

The condition of these once bright-faced and stalwart young 
men was pitiable in the extreme. Although we were greatly 
distressed, many of us in rags, covered with filth and active and 
ever-present vermin, and half starved, others unable to stand or 
walk on account of scurvy, yet our hearts went out to those 
brave men, thus huddled together, in the open air, with nothing 
save the ground for a bed and the blue-vaulted canopy for a 
covering. 



132 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



Myself and three companions having matured plans for 
flight, all that remained was to put them into execution. Dur- 
ing the day I had taken the precaution to remove the percussion 
caps from the muskets of the seven armed Confederate guards 
who bore us company in the box-car. I did this to prevent the 
guards from firing in the excitement attending our leap from 
the train. 

The shades of night 
were enveloping the earth 
as our train reached the 
long wooden structure 
spanning the Congaree 
River, a short distance 
above its confluence with 
the swift-flowing Watteree 
and it seemed as if it would 
never reach the opposite 
bank — so great was our 
anxiety to make a bold 
stroke for Freedom and 
"God's country," a term by 
which all prisoners desig- 
nated the North. It would 
be useless to affirm that my mind at this critical moment was 
calm and serene, or that I had no misgivings as to what the 
result of our frightful leap might be. But the intense excite- 
ment into which our minds had been thrown — the resolve to 
seek home and friends and liberty overcame the sense of peril, 
and the instant Captain Todd gave the signal we each sprang 
from the swiftly-moving car, and, for the time at least, were 
free. 

We had no leisure after reaching terra firma to reflect upon 
the terrors of our new situation. Fortune so far had favored us 
— this was sufficient. But those rifle flashes (we could not hear 
the reports, so distant was the train) warned us that if we would 
have perfect freedom much remained to be done and done 
quickly. 

It was while contemplating the necessity of entering a dark 
and forbidding-looking cypress swamp to escape our enemies 
that we heard the rush and roar of an approaching storm. The 
trees set up a mournful howling, while the winds shrieked as if 
under the influence of a demon. They were merely the pre- 
cursors of the fearful night through which we were compelled 




REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 133 

to pass. As we dashed into the swamp, veiled with Cimmerian 
darkness, we encountered danger from falling branches and 
uprooted trees. While the tornado was a huge terror, it was 
nothing compared to the dread we had for the fierce dogs now 
on our trail, and those whose excited voices we could hear on 
the edge of the swamp — men who were seeking our recapture. 

It was only after gaining the covert of the swamp which 
lined the right bank of the Watteree River that I reflected upon 
the manifold dangers I had just escaped, upon the many chances 
of fortune which had turned out favorably for me, and upon the 
liberty I had panted for and was beginning to enjoy. 

The swamp we had hastily entered was not such a resort 
as gentlemen of leisure on a pleasure excursion would have 
selected ; on the contrary, it was a very disagreeable refuge, as 
we could find no ground on which to tread — no place to sit or 
recline to rest our weary bodies — the water and mud being quite 
deep — to say nothing about venomous reptiles we encountered 
on every hand. 

But the fierce baying of dreaded blood-hounds and the 
hoarse voices of our excited human pursuers, which we heard 
all through the long night, admonished us to submit to every 
discomfort rather than endanger our highly-prized freedom. 

Convinced that the water through which we waded had 
destroyed the trail, and that so long as we remained in our 
present position the dogs would be unable to reach our hiding- 
place, we studiously avoided all conversation during the night 
and following day, remaining perfectly quiet. 

When the long tiresome day had drawn to a close a 
bright new moon rose to cheer us in our loneliness, and feeling 
our pursuers had departed from our immediate vicinity, we cau- 
tiously made our way to the edge of the swamp, which we found 
to be bordered by a plantation. We held our breath as we lis- 
tened for human sounds, and finding everything as still as a vil- 
lage graveyard, emerged from cover, and, skirting the river's 
bank, promptly pushed forward in our flight. 

Before leaving Charleston we had taken the precaution to 
place pieces of raw onions in our boots, having been advised so 
to do by a Tennessee captain, who assured us it would effectually 
destroy the scent of our footsteps, and thus deprive the dogs of 
the agencies which nature had afforded them in hunting human 
beings. The moon, of tender age, was a great accommodation 
to us in our pilgrimage, enabling us to make rapid headway, 
and to steer clear of anything resembling a habitation. But the 



134 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

silvery rays disappeared before midnight, leaving the countless 
stars to guide and cheer us on our dangerous journey. 

Towards daybreak, being weary, we halted for a needed rest, 
and shortly after resuming our tramp reached a broad highway 
where we found a mile-stone, marked "27 to C." Having no 
desire to visit Columbia, whither our comrades had gone the 
day before, we hastily struck off towards the river, and had pro- 
ceeded but a short distance when a pack of ferocious dogs came 
bounding after us. A long run enabled us to evade the savage 
brutes, but while congratulating ourselves upon our narrow 
escape, we suddenly ran almost directly upon three men standing 
near a saw-mill. 

Darting into an adjacent swamp, we managed to elude our 
pursuers, despite the difficulties we encountered — chief of which 
was a swiftly-running stream of water. This we were enabled 
to cross on a big tree that time had prostrated, and into the 
depths of a dense jungle we plunged. Serpents of various kinds 
finally compelled us to seek safety on the trunk of a huge 
monarch, whose usefulness old age and infirmity had destroyed. 
We remained on that tree trunk all day, and had great trouble 
in finding our way out of the swamp after the sun went down. 
That evening we had a splendid repast on sweet potatoes, a few 
of which we found in a patch near by. 

Before the lapse of a week, however, we met with a terrible 
misfortune in the loss of our cooking utensils, knives, forks 
spoons, towel, several boxes of matches, etc. The rations with 
which we had provided ourselves before starting having been 
eaten, we sought sustenance in corn-fields, swamps and woods 
and early one morning were enjoying a feast near a sweet potato 
patch we had visited when a party of horsemen came galloping 
furiously towards us. We had not anticipated danger in so 
lonely and secluded a spot, and perhaps were a little careless in 
our movements. But self-preservation being nature's first law 
and having no weapons of defense, we sprang intuitively to our 
feet and darted in an opposite direction, leaving most of our 
necessities behind — articles that were indispensable to our needs. 
We had some consolation for their loss in our continued safety, 
but were greatly inconvenienced thereafter for the want of a 
knife and a utensil in which to cook whatever we found to cook- 
While dangers of greater or less magnitude constantly sur- 
rounded us from start to finish, they were as nothing compared 
to the question of subsistence, which soon began to grow un- 
pleasantly urgent, and at length became so desperate that it 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 135 

looked as if we should be driven to seek food at the houses of 
the planters, a proceeding we had solemnly sworn not to do 
under any circumstances, as we knew we should receive from 
them neither food nor mercy. 

For several days we wandered along the outskirts of fields, 
diligently seeking corn, occasionally finding a stray ear, which 
spurned by a ravenous appetite, we managed to masticate, the 
process ruining our teeth. In camp and on marches we had 
many a time anathematized government hard-tack, and de- 
claimed against contractors' beef, but now, crouching in dismal 
swamps through the long days, we would have relished the 
substantial fare, which, in hours of plenty, we had so execrated 

But with all our troubles — and they were manifold — we con- 
tinued to press on through the dreary days and tedious nights, 
oftentimes hiding, determined to again reach home, however 
great the risk. 

Often and again, when upon the verge of starvation, we 
were strongly inclined to visit the cabins of negroes, in whom 
we then had almost absolute faith, but despite this, as often beat 
back the tempter (our stomachs), and refused to jeopardize our 
situation until certain we could find some one in whom to repose 
trust, and with it our lives. 

We did not make a serious attempt to seek help from the 
slaves until we reached a point two hundred and fifty miles from 
Charleston, where, one afternoon, we found a number at work 
in a field. We experienced no difficulty in satisfying the darkies 
that we were Yankee officers escaping from bondage, and a? 
soon as darkness fell they hastened to our hiding-place, and 
either brought us edibles or piloted us to their lowly cabins 
displaying the utmost delight at our presence. After this experi- 
ment we did not hesitate in seeking them out. 

There was something almost royal in the cheerfully-ren- 
dered services of these poor creatures, who seemed to look upon 
tis as in some way sufferers for their sake, and they fairly loaded 
us with kindnesses — oftentimes insisting upon our accepting the 
last pound of their meal. They also gave us information as to 
the whereabouts of Confederate soldiers, and the best route to 
the mountains, for which we were aiming. When we parted 
they invariably bestowed heartfelt blessings. 

One beautiful moonlight night, when on the verge of star- 
vation, being too weak to continue our journey, we determined 
to risk a visit to some negro shanties, to obtain, if possible, palat- 
able food, of which we stood in great need, having for a day or 



136 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 




n^*^v_ 



two past subsisted on swamp berries of insipid taste. While 
sitting near a broad, smooth roadway, debating as to the best 

and safest course to pur- 
Hlfttefc^-^j^. sue, we saw an object slow- 

ly approaching. When di- 
rectly opposite, we rose 
from our hiding-place in 
the bushes and confronted 
the visitor, who proved to 
be a very aged negro. On 
his left arm was suspended 
a large basket, which, on 
examination, we found 
contained an immense 
"pone," as all Southerners 
denominate loaves of 
bread. The old man was 
naturally surprised when 
we relieved him of that 
bread, and tearing it in 
pieces, began to devour it in a ravenous manner. When informed 
that we were Yankee army officers escaping from Charleston, the 
aged midnight stroller indulged in saltation exercises that would 
have been creditable to our modern athletes, giving vent to the 
great joy he felt by religious exclamations, which constantly es- 
caped him. Before we bade him farewell he supplied us with a 
quantity of cornmeal and some salt, of which we had long stood 
in sad need, having had no salsamentarious food since leaving the 
prison-yard. Myself and companions regarded the appearance 
of the white-haired old man as a Providential dispensation. 

We had another remarkable adventure at a late hour one 
night near Dallas, North Carolina. Breathless from a long 
chase by some horsemen, we sat down in a dense woods to 
regain strength, and while thus engaged heard a man and 
woman approaching, both singing from the depths of their lungs. 
Taking it for granted they were negroes, we concluded to invite 
their assistance, and when the couple reached us we stopped 
them. The female, with a yell of terror, ran off like a frightened 
deer, while the man, in a voice that betrayed no nervousness, 
asked who we were and what we wanted. His voice satisfied us 
that he was a white man, and the click of a pistol gave evidence 
of his ability to defend himself. 

Necessarily we resorted to conventional strategy, putting 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 137 

and answering questions with the utmost wariness, all the time 
wishing we had let him alone. It required but a brief time, how- 
ever, to discover the status of the stranger, and probably he had 
never been embraced before with the vehement warmth we dis- 
played when we learned that he was a Loyalist, a firm friend of 
the American Union. He insisted upon our visiting his home, 
two miles away, which we did by following a path in the woods, 
thus avoiding mounted patrols which continually scoured the 
country. 

His amiable wife, who had awaited his return, speedily pre- 
pared an excellent supper — the first square meal we had had in 
six months — to which you may well imagine we each did the 
fullest justice, the smiles and kindly words of our hostess season- 
ing the rich repast. That night, sitting before a cheerful blaze 
of that noble North Carolinian's great hearth, he told us the 
story of the loyalty of the people in the western section of the 
state, proving to us that Freedom still had brave defenders 
among the hardy foresters of the "Old North State." 

When the rising sun, dazzling and radiant, shot suddenly 
golden beams of light, we were several miles beyond Dallas — 
our brave and genial host, C. C. Withers, an ex-member of the 
legislature, having accompanied us some distance, and after 
directing us to other Unionists, he disappeared in the deep sha- 
dows of the woods which surrounded us. 

We resumed our pilgrimage with lighter hearts and nimbler 
feet, notwithstanding our boots were fast giving out, owing to 
the hard usage to which they had been subjected. Long before 
we reached the roaring Catawba River, at the foot of the moun- 
tains, I was compelled to walk bare-footed, and much as I then 
suffered, it was no comparison to what I underwent after reach- 
ing the over-towering and cloud-reaching hills. 

At sunrise one lovely morning, while making our way 
through a pine woods, endeavoring to give a wide berth to the 
town of Morganton, a rendezvous for Confederate conscripts, 
we were almost paralyzed to discover, but a few yards away, and 
directlv in our course, a noble-looking Confederate officer in full 
uniform, mounted upon a fine horse. In his saddle-holsters were 
heavy revolvers, and at his side, a glittering sabre. A retrograde 
movement on our part would have been useless, and we instinc- 
tively halted as the handsome cavalier confronted us. Pity was 
depicted in his every look. He asked no questions, but directed 
us to the best point for crossing the river, and after handing us 
a large-sized plug of tobacco, he sank spurs into the magnificent 



138 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

animal he gracefully bestrode, and in a moment had disappeared 
from our view. That officer evidently recognized us as escap- 
ing Union prisoners, and hadn't the heart to bar our way to lib- 
erty. 

We hastened on, and late in the afternoon stood upon a high 
bluff overlooking the rushing waters of the mighty river, which, 
with the means at hand, required two days' time to cross. 

Discovering apple trees in a field far below, we descended 
and picked what fruit we could find, and while thus engaged, saw 
several men on the opposite side of the river, hastening to the 
bank, where we had observed a small boat moored. We hurriedly 
left that vicinity, but with the aid of dogs our presence was dis- 
covered at midnight, and we again took to our heels and ran till 
daybreak. 

The country about there seems to have been fully aroused, as 
early that morning and throughout the day we saw parties of 
armed men and dogs in various directions, acting in an excited 
manner. Towards the close of the day, however, we managed 
to again reach the river unobserved, by crawling through high 
dry weeds extending from the woods to the water, and were 
made inexpressibly happy soon after by discovering a large flat- 
boat, fastened to a tree, lying a few yards up stream. It required 
much skill to guide and propel the unwieldy craft across the swift- 
running current, but we successfully accomplished the task, and 
shortly after had the satisfaction of witnessing its destruction 
among the rocks a few hundred yards below. The Catawba was 
the most serious obstacle in the water line we had to contend with. 
and we were devoutly thankful in being so successful in accom- 
plishing its passage. 

We had scarcely turned our backs upon the river ere the sky 
became overcast with dense black clouds, and early in the even- 
ing a heavy rain-storm came up adding greatly to our discom- 
forts. Seeing a light in a small cabin in the wilderness we 
sought refuge from the elements. The occupant of the hut, a 
white woman, surrounded by half-a-dozen small children, said 
she had no accommodations, nor any food. The poor, friend- 
less creature, however, had one solace — the snuff she continually 
rubbed on her teeth with a well-worn stick. 

As we left the desolate habitation the storm increased in vio- 
lence; the thunder broke along the luminous sky, and the light- 
ning seemed to rent it in twain. It was mighty and beautiful ; 
a strange, rushing wind came with it, bending the trees as though 
they were saplings. We were mute and frightened before the 
terrific grandeur of the warring elements. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 139 

In our slow and painful progress we stumbled over fallen 
trees, ran against obstructions, and pitched into water-filled 
excavations. The woods being illumined by flashes of light- 
ning, we at length discovered a number of small log houses. It 
seemed like a village of the dead, so solemn was the silence which 
pervaded the place. A reconnoissance satisfied us that it was 
an old camp-meeting ground, and we immediately entered a 
cabin, built a fire and held service by drying our apparel. Shortly 
afterwards an old sow and a litter of pigs ran by, and half an 
hour after three of the piggies were broiling over a blaze in the 
chimney. Although we had no knife to sever the parts or salt 
to season the meat, we enjoyed a hearty meal, climbed into the 
bunks and slept serenely till late next morning. 

We now entered upon that vast elevated region which forms 
the Southern division of the Appalachian mountain system, con- 
stituting the culminating point in the Atlantic barrier of the 
American continent. We were at the gate of the land through 
which runs the chain of the Roan, Bald, Mitchell and Great 
Smoky Mountains, separating Western North Carolina from 
Eastern Tennessee. But we little dreamed of the dangers we 
should still meet with, or of the great distance to be traversed, 
or of the increased hunger and terrible privations we should yet 
suffer. 

Our route lay through the mountain forest, and, conse- 
quently, we caught, from time to time, exquisite views of the 
loftv summits. The precipitous hills rendered traveling diffi- 
cult and fatiguing. Still, we went on, climbing up and up — 
ever climbing — the prospect growing more and more dreary 
step by step. Great mists moved lightly overhead, and now 
and then some monarch of the .great ranges in our front had 
his lofty brow wrapped in the delicate embrace of white clouds, 
which trembled into fantastic shapes of smoke-wreaths and cas- 
tles and towers, and sometimes took the contour of the moun- 
tains themselves. There was no road or beaten path to follow. 
But how delicious the sunlight on the tree-stems through the 
glades of that wild forest ! How delicate the green mosses 
clothing the trunks of the fallen monarchs ! How crystal and 
sweet the water which we found and drank from the foamy 
brooks ! 

After flanking the town of Lenoir, county seat of Caldwell, 
we accidentally and providentially fell in with a member of 
the numerous Estes family, a stalwart Unionist, who escorted us 
to a commodious cave between two great hills, where we found 



140 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

a. number of deserters from the Confederate army, together with 
several refugees. These men welcomed us with open arms, for 
there was a sort of kinship between us which made us at once 
the strongest friends. It was in this section that we became 
associated with many of these brave and hardy mountaineers, 
and had from their lips the story of their present life, which was 
full of peril and sublime heroism. 

These men were associated with another class called "lyers- 
out," who lived in caves and other retreats, and who had resisted 
or evaded the conscription all the years of the war — a period to 
them and their families of vicissitude and suffering. In all my 
wanderings I never saw more determined men ; and, mingling 
among them, I thought of the brave defenders of the Tyrol, 
of the hardy Waldenses, fighting and dying among their native 
hills for dear liberty's sake. Most of the noble fellows whom we 
thus met on the mountains of Western North Carolina were, be- 
fore the war, in comfortable circumstances, owning pleasant and 
profitable farms, but now all were reduced to want, most of them 
illy clad and penniless. I saw men in this region who, com- 
pelled to abandon everything because of their devotion to the 
government and the Union of their forefathers, had not dared 
to cross their own door-sills, although almost daily they had seen 
their homes from their hiding-places in the dense forests and 
among the mountains they loved so well. 

While thus exiled in enforced idleness, their brave, true- 
hearted and devoted wives performed every drudgery, working 
the little farms, and often at the dead hour of night, at the hazard 
of their lives, carrying food and other necessaries to the refugees, 
in whose well-being they were so warmly interested. A volume 
would be needed, were I to rehearse the tales of suffering and 
the narratives of irregular warfare practiced on these people. 

The women whom I met upon the mountains of Western 
North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee, while constantly sur- 
rounded by terrible dangers, and often caused to suffer, were as 
heroic as any whose deeds are recorded in our country's annals. 
In every age and clime woman has proved herself the good angel 
sent by Heaven to alleviate human misery. In the depths of 
the African jungles Mungo Park would have perished but for 
the sympathy and generous assistance of the dusky maidens who 
ministered to his necessities. 

We had but little difficulty in persuading a hundred and 
more loyal North Carolinians to accompany us on our journey 
to the Union lines, wherever they might be, reaching which we 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 141 

promised to use our influence in procuring them arms, ammuni- 
tion, clothing, etc., and with but little hesitation they bade their 
wives and little ones farewell, and started. 

Their wives would pray for them, they said, and if they 
were fortunate enough to procure the needed articles, they would 
return and be able to protect their homes, and put an end to the 
atrocities which had been prevalent in that section for several 
years. How the weather-beaten faces of these men glowed 
under the inspiration of that thought ! How fondly the little 
hands of their children clung around the necks of these self-sacri- 
ficing mountaineers in the solemn and, perchance, lasting part- 
ing, and how anxious were their noble wives that they might 
be successful in obtaining the ardently-desired supplies. 

A fatiguing march of two days brought us to the summit 
of Grandfather Mountain, which holds its head more than 6,000 
feet above the sea. Here we found the family of a Baptist 
clergyman named Prickett. These good people, despite their 
wretchedness, extended a kindly welcome, bidding us make 
ourselves as comfortable as the limited capacity of the rudely- 
constructed log cabin allowed. Most of our party, however, 
continued on to what was called the "Rock-House," simply a 
huge boulder, under which Mr. Prickett and his two sons had 
often found refuge when sought for by Confederates. Mrs. 
Prickett regretted she had nothing of the meat kind with which 
to regale us, but shortly afterwards "Sim" Philyaw, a noted 
Union scout, arrived with a young black bear he had killed near 
the old saw-mill below. This was a grateful surprise to all. 
Myself and three companions ate heartily of Bruin's savory 
parts, the first bear meat I had ever tasted, and made our way to 
the place of refuge, where we passed a terrible night, owing to 
a severe snow-storm, which set in early in the evening. 

When day at length broke the .ground was covered with 
fleecy flakes to the depth of several inches, and my heart almost 
failed me as I remembered that I was without covering for my 
feet, my boots having long since become useless ; that I had no 
hat ; that my thin blouse was in tatters ; that my red flannel 
shirt, which I had worn more than six months without a change, 
was threadbare, and that my trousers reached but to my knees. 
I feared I must now certainly perish, so intense was the cold 
which had set in in earnest, so biting was the blast which swept 
the mountain. 

The prospect before us was not pleasant to contemplate. In 
an inhospitable waste, thousands of feet above the sea's level, 



142 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

with a tempest raging, hungry and almost naked, with three- 
score men, comparative strangers, at one time enemies, whose 
condition was but little better than my own, hundreds of miles 
still to be traversed, giddy heights to be ascended, dangerous 
rivers to be crossed, and the ever present fear of recapture, be- 
fore we could reach the haven of our heart's fondest desires, 
rendered our situation anything but inviting. 

Our guides were not in the most amiable mood when day 
broke, and my worst fears were realized when they informed us 
that it would be impossible to proceed until the storm abated — 
until no trail would be left of our march. We appealed to them 
to make another start, and were profuse in our promises of good 
things we would buy for them on reaching our lines, but for 
several hours they were obdurate, and refused to move. Mean- 
time, they kept a huge fire blazing under the edge of the rock. 
This was the only cheerful thing on that mountain. 

After the noon hour, however, they were persuaded to 
resume the journey, which increased my sufferings more than 
tongue or pen can tell. My companions pitied me and had 
great solicitude, but they could do nothing to ameliorate my 
condition. Just before night we were joined by Major E. A. 
Davis, of the Third North Carolina Mounted Infantry (Union) 
Regiment, who was on the mountain looking for recruits. With 
his Henry rifle, a six-shooter, and a heavy navy revolver, he was 
a valuable acquisition to our party, as he supplied us with bear, 
wild hogs and, occasionally, a turkey. 

It was while making our weary way across this trackless 
waste that a desperate engagement occurred between a company 
of Confederates, under Captain Hartley, and a small band of 
Unionists, commanded by his brother. Lieutenant James Hart- 
ley, of the Third North Carolina Mounted Infantry (Union) 
Regiment. The fight lasted over an hour, several men on each 
side being killed and wounded. A day or two after I met Lieu- 
tenant Hartley and several of his men who had taken part in 
the fight. 

We diverged somewhat from our true course to view "Lit- 
tle Lost Cove," a great natural curiosity. The cavern, they told 
us, was three thousand feet deep, and a silence, not of gloom, but 
of reverence, seemed to fall upon us as we overlooked it. Roll- 
ing large boulders into the cavity, to listen to the awful rever- 
berations which they made as they tumbled down its sides and 
dashed to the bottom, gave me much pleasure, despite my desire 
•to proceed. Here were virgin rocks upon which no pestiferous 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 143 

quack had painted his shameless sign, precipices which had not 
been invaded by the grand tour, whose solitary magnificence 
thrills and impresses you, as if in some barren land you came 
upon the brilliant lustre of a priceless diamond. 

^ We reached Crab Orchard, Tennessee, November 6th, and 
owing to the cold and the slippery state of the walking, were 
compelled to make a stop. A Mr. Buck generously gave us a 
<:ow, which, being slaughtered, afforded us a change of food, 
which was highly relished. Most of our party quartered in a 
cave between two mountains, myself and companions stopping 
at the comfortable home of Mr. Francis Marion Hampton, for- 
merly a member of the Tennessee legislature, and a cousin of 
General Wade Hampton, of South Carolina. He came down 
from his covert on the mountain at midnight, and had a long 
talk with us. He had inhabited a cave for more than a year. 

Next day we again started, and feeling greatly refreshed, 
marched swiftly, notwithstanding the drawbacks of a heavy rain 
and the rough condition of the roads. Time was when all this 
section of country was romantic ground. "The great Indian 
war trail, along which so many scenes of violence and murder 
were enacted, ran near this point," said Major Davis. "From 
the time of the settlement along the beautiful Chucky River, 
more than a hundred years ago, until early in the present cen- 
tury," continued the Major, "the settler took his life in his hands 
daily, and the war-cry of the Indian was a familiar sound to 
his ever-listening ears." 

We had now reached the chain of the Great Smoky Moun- 
tain Range — the very spot of all others we had been particularly 
cautioned against visiting just before leaving Charleston, owing 
to the presence there of Indians, acting in the interest of the 
Confederacy. The hills everywhere rose to a height of several 
thousand feet, and seen from a distance they seemed bathed in 
a mellow haze, like that distinguishing the atmosphere of Indian 
summer. We passed through a gap which had a great eleva- 
tion ; beneath us were vast canyons, from which came up the 
angry roar of creeks, greatly swollen by the heavy rains. We 
looked down upon the tops of mighty forests, never tiring of 
their grandeur. 

The pathways grew rockier as we clambered along, but the 
air was pure and refreshing, and had I been comfortably clad 
and in good condition for sight-seeing, I should have reveled 
in the beauty of the ever-changing scenes. As far as the eye 
could reach, on every hand, stood long lines of towering crags, 



144 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

from which there seemed no outlet. Once I turned on the 
crest of a prodigious mountain, and, looking Carolinaward, I 
saw our old friends of the Blue Ridge and Allegheny Ranges^ 
scattered for miles among the dark and forbidding-looking for- 
ests. Before and behind us were deep ravines, and beyond all, 
uncounted peaks, which the sky seemed tenderly to bend over 
and kiss with affection. 

It was while crossing the placid Indian Creek, or river, that 
we had a startling surprise, and a tragedy was averted with 
difficulty. The mountains through which this crystal stream 
made its way, were mirrored in its rain-rippled breast. Upon 
this beautiful country through which we were now fleeing for 
life and liberty, the Indian had lavished that wealth of affection 
he always feels for nature and never for man. He gave to the 
multitudinous hills and streams the soft poetic names of his ex- 
pansive language — names which the white man has in many cases 
thrown away, substituting the barbarous common-places of the 
rude days of early settlement. 

Indian Creek heads in the neighboring Smoky Mountains, 
and swelling into volume free from countless springs of coldest, 
purest, most transparent water, which send little torrents down 
all the ravines, it goes foaming and dashing over myriad rocks, 
sometimes leaping from dizzy heights into narrow and wild- 
looking canyons, until it comes to, and is lost in the noble and 
majestic French Broad River, which we successfully crossed a 
few days afterwards. 

It was midnight when we reached a fordable point, and 
much difficulty was experienced in crossing. Here a mule and 
horse, captured a few days before by our party, proved of great 
usefulness, as we used the animals as ferry-boats. Each carried 
two persons across the flood at a time ; then by means of a long 
rope, the animals were guided back for other passengers. Most 
of our party had thus been ferried to the left bank, when the 
North Carolinians and Tennesseeans became embroiled in a 
fierce fight, bad blood between them for the past day or two hav- 
ing been engendered. 

For a time it was a serious affair, and several were badly 
cut in the encounter. We had much trouble in stopping the 
fight and reconciling the combatants. A few days afterward 
they engaged in another combat, but without serious results. 

The ascent of Higgins' Ridge was both tedious and painful 
to me, requiring five hours in its difficult accomplishment. The 
gigantic hill, over which we made our laborious way, was clad 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



145 



in the sombre garb of the balsam — the sad and haughty monarch 
of those great heights. The odorous boughs of these mighty 
trees brushed against the clouds, while in the deep thickets, 
where the sunbeams can hardly penetrate, safe refuges for the 
mountain lion, wolf and bear are afforded. 

It was from the summit of this hill that I for the first time 
gazed upon and across the lovely Cumberland Valley. Far 
below we distinctly saw the town of Greenville, the old home of 
Andrew Johnson, who, the previous week, had been elected 
Vice-President of the United States on the ticket with our 
sainted Lincoln. I also saw Jonesboro' away to the right, while 
other villages dotted the beautiful plains below. 

Bull Gap, too, where a portion of the Union army was said 
to be encamped, and our present objective point, was within 
sight, but a long distance away, across the broad valley in our 
immediate front. With wistful eyes I looked to the bold pro- 
montory, and what longings I had to be at its base. Another 
day, our guides promised, would bring us to it, and in this 
joyous expectation I nerved myself for the final tramp. 

Hastening along in gleeful mood we were suddenly thrown 
into a state of terror and demoralization by the sudden and to- 
tally unexpected appearance of a number of horsemen, riding 
furiously upon an adjoining and parallel ridge, with a view of 
intercepting our descent into the valley. By dint of great 
effort and a long and fatiguing run we succeeded in reaching 
the desired point, and, although a number of shots were dis- 
charged, none of our party were injured. 

A weary climb and we stood upon the crest of Big Butt 
Mountain, from which we had a grand view of the gorgeous 
valley. In a few hours my torn and constantly bleeding feet 
would receive care and attention ; in a few hours I would again 
be under the folds of the flag I had followed in the field since 
April, 1861 : in a few hours my fears and trials and fatigues would 
be ended, and joy and peace reign in my mind. 

Down the steep side of the great hill we went at accelerated 
pace, when all of a sudden the gravest fears took possession of 
our souls. A thundering reverberation which came up from 
the hitherto quiet valley shook the grand old hills about us. 
causing an instantaneous halt. What could have caused the 
noise? The answer came the next instant in the unmistakable 
report of artillery and musketry; and gazing across the plains 
before us the smoke arising from a battle then and there in 
progress was plainly visible. Our hearts sank within us, and 



146 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

sadness and fear was depicted on every face. With an army 
across our path, and desperate bush-whackers hovering about 
us, how should be escape capture — perhaps death ? 

As the evening shades fell there was a lull — a sudden ter- 
mination of the conflict. What would the morrow bring forth ? 

A young woman, living at the base of the great mountain, 
solicitous for our welfare and deeply commiserating our wretch- 
edness and forlorn condition, volunteering to make a recon- 
noissance, mounted her "filly," a young horse, and with a bag of 
corn before her improvised saddle, a primitive concern without 
stirrups, rode away on the pretence of visiting a neighboring mill 
to have the corn ground. She returned in safety at dusk, with 
the discomforting intelligence that General Gillem, the Union 
commander at Blue Lick Springs, had been disastrously de- 
feated, and was precipitately falling back on the strong defences 
at Knoxville. 

Desperately in want of food, Captains Todd and Grant, who 
had started with Captain Lewis and myself from Charleston, six 
weeks previously, went off in search of something that would 
afford nourishment to our weakened stomachs and give strength 
to our tottering frames. It was during their absence that a 
young mountaineer, who manifested deep concern in me, pleaded 
to guide me to his cave, a refuge some miles away, where safety 
would be assured and many comforts found. He was eloquent 
in depicting the manifold dangers surrounding me, and declared 
our party could not hope to reach our lines at Knoxville, now 
that a large and active force of a vigilant and desperate enemy 
intervened. Finally accepting his view of the situation, I re- 
luctantly consented to accept his advice and proffered hospital- 
ity, providing my three companions in captivity could accom- 
pany us. This, he declared to be impossible, owing to the 
incapacity of his accommodations, sufficient, he said, for only 
two, and while further laboring to induce me to accept his 
generous invitation, we were startled by the sound of heavy 
hoof-beats, the firing of small arms, and the demoniac yells of 
a body of horsemen, rapidly advancing up the deep and wild 
ravine in which we thought we had immunity from danger. The 
bush-whackers, whom we dreaded, had discovered our hiding- 
place. 

Thus aroused from a train of sad reflections, I sprang from 
the trunk of a prostrate monarch of the forest on which I had 
been reclining, and without taking a ceremonious leave of my 
friend, dashed directly up the steep mountain side, lacerating 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 147 

■my bare feet and legs as I ran in my headlong course, among 
the rocks and brush which lined my rough and darkened path- 
way. My boots had long since pegged out, and the semblance 
of a uniform which I had worn over six months, without remov- 
ing, was much torn and in a sadly dilapidated condition. My 
legs, from knees down, were entirely exposed. 

My rapid flight up the great hill was greatly accelerated by 
a shower of bullets which pelted the hillside. To increase my 
discomforts an easterly wind that pierced to the marrow, and 
which had prevailed for a day or two, brought a gale and a heavy 
rain, intermingled with hail, thoroughly saturating what little 
apparel remained upon my attenuated frame, down which ran 
copious streams of icy water. The hail-stones beat upon my 
unprotected head, arms and feet, while the cold was so intense 
that I had but little use of my hands, my feet seeming like balls, 
so benumbed had they become. Two weeks previously they 
had been frozen while crossing Grandfather Mountain, in 
wading through six inches of snow. 

Finally attaining the summit of the mountain, only accom- 
plished by laborious and painful effort, I fell exhausted and un- 
conscious — nature had run its course. How long I remained 
in this state, I have no means of knowing, but when I at length 
awoke and realized that I must perish unless I could get my 
blood in circulation, I set to work by indulging in such exer- 
cise as I was capable of. I stamped my feet upon the cold, wet 
ground, and made an effort to run, stopping occasionally to rub 
my limbs against logs which everywhere strewed the hillside. 

The night was the longest, dreariest and most terrible of 
any I had ever experienced, and heartily glad was I when the 
dawn of morning approached, although it brought little cheer. 
True, I could view the surrounding country for a long distance, 
and in other conditions might have appreciated the grotesque 
ridges, rocks, escarpments, undulating hillocks and meandering 
rivers, now flooded, but I was not on an excursion of pleasure 
bent, and the sights presented had but little charm for me. 

The thought I had adopted from the first that I would 
not perish in the wilderness, but would again reach my home, 
often revived my sinking spirits, when, from faintness and ex- 
haustion, I felt but little inclination for life. I must confess, 
however, that after making my way along the dizzy mountain- 
top through a field of tangled trunks which seemed intermina- 
ble, at one of my compulsory stops I found myself seriously 
considering whether, after all, it was not preferable to die there 



148 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

than renew the almost necessary superhuman effort to proceed. 

Alone in that vast and inhospitable wilderness I sometimes 
felt that all attempt to escape was but a bitter prolongation of 
the agony of dissolution, but a seeming whisper in the air, 
"while there is life there is hope," dispelled the delusion, and I 
clambered on. 

I gradually arrived at the growing consciousness that I was 
starving, yet I did not crave food until I suddenly ran across 
a persimmon tree, still partially bearing some of the purple- 
covered fruit, of which I was exceeding fond when a boy. I 
ate ravenously of the berries, and for a time my appetite was 
fully appeased. A long period had gone since I had feasted 
so luxuriously on this fruit. 

There were thoughts and feelings and mental anguishes 
without number that crowded through my bewildered mind that 
I cannot describe, but bitter as had been my experiences in 
various Confederate, prison-pens and on my toilsome tramp, it 
was not unrelieved by some of the most precious moments I 
had ever known. 

I did not suffer for want of water, as I had some days 
before, because of the copious rain-fall, but I became very cold 
as the storm continued to rage with increased violence. There 
was no protection to be found, save in the poor shelter of drip- 
ping trees, and this was poor indeed. My armless blouse ex- 
posed my arms, and as I gazed upon them the flesh and blood 
had apparently vanished. The skin clung to the bones like wet 
parchment, which it resembled. A child's hand could have 
clasped them from wrist to shoulder. I might add by way of 
parenthesis, that a few days afterwards, on reaching home, I 
could not turn the scales at ninety pounds. 

Apparently out of immediate danger, although I could hear 
heavy firing in the distance, convincing me a battle was in 
progress, I sat down to extricate a piece of stick which had been 
forced into the fleshy part of my heel, and while engaged in the 
painful operation, and contemplating my condition and the 
manifold dangers surrounding me, a terrible fear took possession 
of my soul. 

It is scarcely possible to conceive what difficulties I had to 
surmount. Compelled to struggle with the most urgent neces- 
sities, pierced by the cold, constantly tormented by hunger, a 
prey to misgivings as to the success of my long tramp, uncer- 
tain at the rising of the sun, whether I should see its setting 
rays, and doubtful at night whether I should witness the morn- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 149 

ing's dawn, every thought seemed concentrated in the ardent 
desire to live. 

Alone in that awful solitude, among great overtowering hills, 
which touched the clouds ; in wretchness and misery ; without 
food, almost destitute of appetite, and bare-footed, my heart fast 
throbbing in the exciting run for life had now almost ceased to 
pulsate. 

I had no article of value about me — no money, no knife or 
other weapon, no blanket, no utensil in which to cook, noth- 
ing to cook ; neither did I know in which direction to turn, which 
course to pursue. 

What had been the fate of my companions I knew not, nor 
had I any means of ascertaining. Daylight came at last, bring- 
ing some relief to my anxious mind. I was on the brink 
of despair when sounds of an approaching party were borne 
to my listening ears. Secreting myself I soon became con- 
vinced that they were friends, and when near enough I recog- 
nized Captain Lewis and a score of the refugees who had fol- 
lowed us from North Carolina. 

I cannot express the gratitude I felt as I bounded like a 
schoolboy down the mountain's side to find the firm comrade 
with whom I had set out on the fateful pilgrimage. I was 
affectionately greeted, having been given up for lost. We 
hastened away, keeping along under the heavy shadows of the 
everlasting hills, into which we could retreat did such a step 
become necessary, but although we constantly heard desultory 
firing in the direction of the railroad, and occasionally saw af- 
frighted farmers along Pigeon and French Broad Rivers fleeing 
from the invading army, we managed to escape observation, and 
march between twenty and thirty miles a day. 

In less than a week we were safe within the Union lines at 
Knoxville, whose citizens we found in a high state of excite- 
ment, consequent upon the approach of Breckinridge's half- 
starved army. 

Shall I conclude my narrative by telling you with what 
animation Lewis and myself rehearsed to Generals Gillem, Car- 
ter and Ammen, and a listening company of brave officers who 
so kindly welcomed us to that heroic town the story of our suf- 
ferings and escapes ; how they cheered us by complimentary 
remarks upon our achievements — how thoughts of an old-fash- 
ioned Thanksgiving with the dear ones at home that night made 
our dreams luminous as with the smiles of angels? 

No. You can imagine all this, and if you have ever been 



150 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

in such perils as we had escaped, you will understand what I 
mean when I say that life seemed to us, in those first hours 
of deliverance, like a resurrection, in which we stood with crowns 
upon our heads, and shining pathways, leading heavenward, 
stretching away in reaches of splendor before our weary feet. 



RECOLLECTIONS OF THE GREAT REVIEW. 

THE American people had no conception of the magnitude 
of the Union armies until "the cruel war was over," and 
the remnants of Grant's and Sherman's warriors — genu- 
ine veterans — passed in glorious review over the wide avenues 
of the National Capital forty-two years ago, the dignitaries of 
our land, rescued and forever safe from secession, and thou- 
sands of patriotic citizens witnessing the greatest and noblest 
pageant ever seen in the United States, if not in the world, and 
surpassing in enthusiasm and patriotic fervor any "triumph" in 
Rome's palmiest days — a spectacle that can never again be anti- 
cipated here. Of those who took part in the grand review, but 
few remain. 

The glitter of a sea of steel bayonets, the constant flashing 
of bright sabres, the dazzling light from brass dogs of war, whose 
fierce barkings had been heard with terror by the enemy and 
with delight by the Unionists in hundreds of sanguinary engage- 
ments, and the waving of bullet-ridden and battle-torn colors, 
brilliantly floating in the soft breezes those lovely days in May, 
1865, were most inspiring. 

Was it any wonder that the greatest throng ever up to that 
time attracted to Washington should sit or stand for many hours, 
transfixed as it were, by the panoramic sight of moving masses 
of blue, in all the panoply of war, passing along with rhythmic 
motion? 

Such marching, such music, such behavior on the part of 
those stern-featured men, had never before been seen, nor will 
the sublime spectacle ever again be approximated. 

Boys who had followed the lead of the heroic Hooker, and 
toiled with him in climbing the rocky steeps at Lookout Moun- 
tain till our starry banners kissed the clouds; those who whirled 
down the beautiful and romantic Shenandoah Valley, under the 
pluckv and intrepid Sheridan ; those who followed the ever-true 
Burnside into the malarial swamps of Roanoke Island, and up 
Marve's blazing heights ; those who followed Sherman from 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 151 

Atlanta to the sea ; those who swept grandly with Grant through 
the Wilderness, and faced death with unblanched faces at Cold 
Harbor, and those who pressed with exultant feet in pursuit of 
Lee's decimated and shattered columns after Richmond's fall — 
these men, bronzed and stern-visaged, marched those two never- 
to-be-forgotten days as mortals had never marched before, nor 
since, nor ever will again. 

Within the short space of nine months after this, nearly one 
million American volunteers, the best soldiers the world ever 
beheld, melted away into private life — honorably discharged from 
the service of a Nation they had unflinchingly and faithfully 
served through four long and bitter years, and returned to their 
homes to become better citizens — this mighty task being accom- 
plished so easily and quietly that the country scarcely realized the 
fact. This mighty host was absorbed with scarcely a ripple in 
the commercial or business world. 

To-day the few remaining survivors of the greatest conflict 
recorded in history are surrounded by none of the pomp or cir- 
cumstance of war. No shattered cannon disputes the supremacy 
of the flag under which they marched. No rattle of musketry 
or clang of sabre speaks of deadly conflict, no blast of bugle or 
throb of drum summons them to ensanguined fields. There is no 
rumble of artillery hurrying to defend an endangered battle line 
— no shell screaming in the air ; no ghastly faces turned rear- 
ward on stretcher or litter ; no gleaming surgeon's knife, no hos- 
pital floating its peculiar and sacred flag and beckoning wounded 
and dying to its friendly shelter. 

Peace, sweet peace, made possible by the sacrifices of the 
stalwart men of 1861-1865, now smiles on all the land. From 
towns and cities shattered by shot and shell time has rubbed 
every scar. Into homes desolated, content long ago came, and 
at broken firesides, once shrouded in gloom, the angel of peace 
has furled her wing. Industry, commerce and all the arts of 
peace flourish as never before. Resentments, long and bitterly 
cherished, are hushed, and the embers of old exasperations and 
hates have died out upon the old heart. 

Fires are now burning dimly at the infrequent gatherings of 
those who fought the battles in the war for the Union, and as 
they look into each other's faces, once grimed and blackened 
with the smoke of battle ; as they receive the eager grasp of hands 
that more than four decades ago pledged that eternal brother- 
hood which true soldiers best can feel ; as thev recall the glorious 
deeds, the thrilling events, and the bitter hours thev all have 



152 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

seen, may the ties then formed, and renewed from time to time, 
bind them afresh into that glorious brotherhood born of a com- 
mon danger, a common hardship and a common patriotism. 

Who among them will ever forget the friendship of those 
cruel and never-ending days? Who among them would blot 
from memory a single one of those hours in which hardship and 
glory, and suffering and joy pressed close upon each other's heels 
day by day, and year after year? 



SECOND COLD HARBOR. 

WHILE the minds of patriotic citizens are more or less cen- 
tered on the services and sacrifices of the soldiers who 
fought for and preserved the Union in the bitter contest 
of 1861-1865, is it not well for participants in that prolonged and 
terrible struggle to rehearse scenes in which they took part, as a 
means of impressing upon the present money-getting generation 
the nature of the contest in which more than half a million lives 
and two billions in treasure were given to perpetuate the best 
form of government ever vouchsafed to man, as well as to incul- 
cate lessons of patriotism and wisdom for those to come after ? 

Nearly half a century ago many young men who were serv- 
ing in the Union Army participated in one of the most fiercely 
contested battles of the war at Cold Harbor, Virginia — an engage- 
ment that raged with great fury for several days, in which scenes 
were witnessed that have no parallel in American history, and 
where brave and determined men grappled at each other's throats 
in a fierce and desperate struggle for possession of a coveted 
field. 

I will not weary the reader by attempting to tell of the hasty 
and toilsome march of the Ninth New Jersey Regiment from day- 
break on the morning of June 3, 1864, under a scorching sun, 
to reinforce the weakened and imperiled line of the Army of the 
Potomac at that point, nor dwell on the gallant assault it made 
on the enemy's works, from which it was repeatedly repelled. 
That day Jerseymen dropped under the withering fire as grass 
before a scythe. It caused a halt — it was more than human nature 
could withstand. But with no thought of giving way, the men, 
with one accord, instantly and without instruction or working 
tools, commenced the arduous task of constructing what might 
serve as a cover and from which they could with some degree of 
confidence and safety return the shots of the desperate and vigi- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 153 

lant enemy, advantageously posted. Bayonets, knives, forks, 
cups, tin plates and bare hands were the only utensils available 
for the work in hand. 

When the Confederate beheld the pile of earth thus suddenly 
thrown up in their front, and but a few yards away, they made 
repeated charges, but were as often driven back under a rain- 
storm of shell, canister and grape, causing terrible execution. 
When night came, long and earnestly wished for by both armies, 
and darkness enshrouded the gloomy woods, there was a prac- 
tical suspension of the murderous contest, and men from both 
works attempted the rescue of the wounded, lying between. This 
task was both difficult and dangerous. 

Two days after this, during which time several charges and 
counter-charges were made, a fearful, fever-breeding, nauseous 
stench filled the stagnant air from the almost numberless and cor- 
rupt bodies of the slain lying exposed between the outer works 
of the contending forces, separated as they were only by a few 
yards. Among the swollen and blackened corpses, a hideous spec- 
tacle, lay many wounded, unable to move hand or foot, whose 
mournful and pathetic cries as they lay on the parched earth 
under a consuming sun, suffering every torment from wounds, 
hunger and thirst, caused bitter pangs in the hearts of the living, 
who were powerless to aid them. It was a sickening, revolting 
sight to be compelled to endure the foul-smelling bodies, bloated 
to the dimensions of a flour barrel, but far sadder to listen to 
the constant and piteous appeals of the wounded and the dying, 
totally unable to relieve their wants and necessities, or in any way 
escape the contagion surrounding them. 

No pen or brush can adequately portray the agonizing 
scenes the men of both armies were compelled for days to wit- 
ness at Cold Harbor in June, 1864. The ground swarmed with 
great black beetles and huge ants, which held high carnival on 
the putrid bodies of men, who a short time before the embodiment 
of health and manly beauty, had been engaged in a desperate con- 
test for supremacy. Strange to narrate, a number of the wounded 
who had fallen helplessly between the works girdled by death, 
survived until a truce was gained, but they were human wrecks, 
mere shadows of themselves and scarcely recognizable, so pro- 
longed and terrible had been their privations and so intense their 
sufferings. 

Can you, reader, imagine the agonizing torments endured by 
these unfortunate and helpless men who thus suffered through 
those long, scorching days and dreary, never-ending nights? Pic- 



154 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

ture them, if you can, as they lie stretched in every conceivable 
position in that pestilential swamp, writhing in agony from 
ghastly wounds, without water to quench their consuming thirst, 
or food to satisfy the cravings of hunger. Hear their plaintive, 
heart-rending appeals, their deep and mournful groans, their 
prayers for mercy, relief or death, as the field about and above 
them is torn by hissing shot, while nerve-racking grape, canister 
and the ever-present bullet, constantly flying about them, added 
to their fears and bodily distresses. 

Five terrible days passed ere relief came to the sufferers in 
the shape of an armistice, finally granted by the Confederate com- 
mander, during which both forces were allowed to recover the 
wounded and bury the dead. 

But what a task ! Long trenches were quickly excavated and 
into their depths the decomposed and unrecognizable corpses of 
men who a few hours previously had been so full of animation 
and daring were hurriedly, though tenderly and devoutly lowered 
— the brief time allotted for the human purpose not permitting 
ministerial ceremony of any nature, even had any of the so-called 
"fighting" chaplains the temerity to venture to the place of rude 
but necessary interment. It was nauseating to those who were 
detailed to handle the putrefying, disfigured corpses, while those 
to whom the duty of removing the wounded had been delegated 
performed their task with loving hands and bleeding hearts. In 
many instances maggots and other vermin swarmed among the 
wounds of those who had been maimed, presenting a revolting 
sight — one that no man, made however callous-hearted by war, 
would ever wish to behold. 

Here let me draw a veil and present a scene painted in golden 
tints by a friend who recently visited the once flame-lined and 
gory field of Cold Harbor, where so many gallant sons of our lit- 
tle commonwealth gave their lives that our Government might not 
fade away, and where in now awful solitude he found a large can- 
non partially imbedded in the ground, the brazen muzz-le affording 
a secure place for the building of nests by birds. There no more 
the wanton ruffle of the drums, no more the ecstasy of warlike 
bugles and no more the stirring challenge of the inspiring fife ; 
there no more that spot, once thick with blood, coagulate with 
dead, forever gone the locking clash of arms, the shouts, the 
grimy wind chasing the battle flags ; no more the sundering shock 
of flame-ringed, ireful men. Out through these trees the con- 
quered and the conquerors long have passed ; mute is the high 
command, and mute, long mute, the answering thrill of cheer 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 155" 

from out the trickling rill of bayonets ; the charger is enveloped in 
the dust, and rust has claimed both foemen's steel and brass ; long 
faded, too, the deep, imperious tremor of huge guns, the stutter- 
ing musket volleys, the soiled smoke and all the rapid rifle ripple 
in this swamp. 

"In the fluted throat of a cannon sweet birds have builded, 
and with their silken web of song, thread ever the crimson seam 
of hates annulled and reunited arms. Full many a time and oft, 
falcated moons here have risen, have bloomed to passion's prime, 
have waned and slept, have seen no semblance of that horrid 
scene, when war roared weltering in her angered hour — nor is 
there any token left, naught anywhere, naught save the fast thin- 
ning hosts that proudly mourn in annual grief and joy, naught but 
these graves, star-scattered on their grass-grown mounds, this 
annual dip of bright and soft memorial flowers, this memory 
of great deeds — this memory hovering close and warm, 
swallow-like, as when the storm is spent, and when across 
the kindling sky is flung the jeweled bridge of Peace. 
The circling hi Is alone bend in their powdering rims, 
let glide the misty fields in limpid flow to gather in about, 
like flocks and herds that come faltering and trooping adown to 
sunset streams. The sun along his golden balustrade descends ; to 
the pale cheek of night the day allies her roseal lips, and upon 
the ear falls the least faint flutter of receding music. Cold Har- 
bor laughs freshly and lovingly to-day, consecrated, as it is, to. 
memorable pangs and to exalted sacrifices, cradling the storied 
tomb, the urn, the graven monuments and her dead." 



INCIDENTS IN CIVIL WAR. 

THE present strenuous generation, engrossed, as it is, in 
unusual commercial activities, has but a feeble conception 
of the magnitude of the Civil War, relentlessly waged for 
four years. What would to-day be thought if the old Army of 
the Potomac, for example, against which the Confederates 
launched their best and strongest forces, could be resuscitated 
and again formed into column, as in 1864, when General Grant 
directed it? In its most compact marching order that magni- 
ficent army would extend from Jersey City to Baltimore, a dis- 
tance of some two hundred miles. Have you, reader, any con- 
ception of what that army cost in thought — not money — to con- 
struct it; how much energy and determination; how much pru- 



156 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

dence and forethought; how much anticipation of future wants, 
necessities and contingencies, or how much thought it would 
require from one single mind to guide its movements — where to 
move? when? how? or what should be done if success attended 
the plans of the commander? or what he should do if the enemy 
made an uncertain move ; or how he should recover from any- 
adverse, unforeseen circumstances? 



Visitors to Washington, in these piping times of peace and 
money-getting, may scarcely believe that the most extensive 
bakery in the world was established in the extensive 
vaults of the present magnificent capitol in the early part of the 
Civil War, from the ovens of which 60.000 loaves of pure and 
wholesome fresh white bread were turned out daily and supplied 
to the soldiers encamped in and about the national capital. The 
great bakery was conducted so quietly that visitors to the halls of 
legislation would not be cognizant of the unceasing industry car- 
ried on beneath the great marble structure if attention was not 
called to the fact. 



The Army of the Potomac, under the easy-going McClellan, 
who never had any disposition to fight the enemy, owing to his 
underrating the strength and ability of his own force, and over- 
estimating the numbers of the Confederates confronting him, 
really never fulfilled its mission until General Grant, whose ways 
General Lee did not understand, left his ever-victorious Western 
army and assumed control of it. Grant, with an eye single to the 
interests of the country, and a grim determination which ever 
characterized him, moved forward on that line, where, he said, if 
he had to fight all summer, he would remain. He kept his word 
and victory crowned his efforts. For the first time that splendid 
army, which for years had repeatedly hurled itself against Con- 
federate earthworks only to be repulsed, had a competent master. 
With Grant everything was stern reality and the business at hand. 



It was after the battle of Kinston, N. C, in December, 1862, 
and the occupancy of that town by the Ninth New Jersey, which 
blazed the way, when Morrison's Battery ran up and took position 
to shell the Confederates, precipitately retreating towards Golds- 
boro, that Dr. Salter, who with Surgeon Gillette, of the Ninth, 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 157 

was very busily engaged in attending to the wounded, noticing 
the proximity of the battery to the improvised hospital, remarked : 
"We had better get out of this before Morrison draws the enemy's 
fire !" "Guess there is no danger here so long as the Ninth is in 
front of us," responded Surgeon Gillette, who was preparing to 
amputate the leg of William Brumstadder, of Company G, of 
Elizabeth (still living). Bang! Boom! W-h-r-r-s-s-t-t ! And 
pieces of shell rattled about the hospital, creating consternation 
among the helpless men within. One of the stretcher-carriers — a 
member of Company G of Elizabeth — who had just brought in a 
bucket of water, grabbed his haversack and started out of the 
building, saying to the surgeon in language more forcible than 
polite : "I am going to the rear. You are a h — 1 of a doctor to 
put the hospital in front of a battle !" And out he went on a dead 
run. 

One day, as Company K was on a march, an incident oc- 
curred that caused much merriment among the boys of that com- 
mand. "Tom" McCormick, of Elizabeth, who enjoyed the repu- 
tation of being one of the homeliest men in the Ninth, as well as 
being one of the most daring, having the ill-luck to stumble, gave 
expression to his injured feelings in language that his lieutenant 
could find no authority for in the tactics. "You are fined, Mc- 
Cormick," said the lieutenant, who never could condone any in- 
fraction of army rules. "Tom" greatly respected his officer, but 
being greatly provoked at the rebuke, uttered another unparlia- 
mentary expression. "I shall impose another fine," said the lieu- 
tenant. "All right, lieutenant," responded McCormick, taking a 
wad of bills from his pocket and handing him a one-dollar bill ; 
"while at it, I may as well take a dollar's worth of army rige- 
lashun !" And he did. 



Who shall describe, with "thoughts that breathe and words 
that burn," in language that shall compress a volume into a sen- 
tence, a sentence into a word, the agony of mind and body which 
is the hourly boon of the many thousands in the hospitals during 
the great war ? Aged men and tender boys suffered alike. There 
is no discrimination in battle. One youth, the very picture of 
manhood's budding beauty, has lost a leg, and limps upon a crutch. 
Another, with bandaged breast and brow, remembers the fatal 
bravery which inspired him on the battle-field, and weeps involun- 
tarily as he never wept before at the sweet thought of home and 
mother. The writer, in passing through a hospital after the battle 



158 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

•of Newbern, witnessed a touching incident — one that drew tears 
to his eyes and thrilled his form with a pang. Several charitable 
ladies were passing along a ward, dispensing ice-cream to the 
invalids. At the farther end lay a boy, his face pale, his eyelids 
drooping. 

"The poor little fellow is asleep; we must not disturb him," 
said one of the ladies. 

"No, ma'am, I am not asleep," he softly answered. 

"My little fellow," continued the lady, "are you fond of i^e 
cream ?" 

"Yes, ma'am; I dearly love it," he replied with a silvery 
voice, as his face brightened up. 

"Well, help yourself to this," saying which the angel visitor 
placed a saucer and spoon on the little table at his bedside. 

The lad burst into tears, and the ladies became very much 
affected at his heartrending sobs. 

"Why do you cry ?" asked one of them. 

"Oh, madam, if you will pull down the quilt a little, you will 
see." 

She did so, and found that he had no arms. 

Poor boy! The sympathy of silence and tears was all that 
could be bestowed upon his wounded spirit. The remembrance of 
sister and brother, of father and mother, of childish frolics and 
playmates loved of yore, was awakened to soothe the fancy of 
the brave little sufferer, and to wreath his young brow with the 
still tender beauty of resignation to the will of God. 

A DUEL TO THE DEATH. 

PHILADELPHIA rejoices in the citizenship of a gentleman 
and soldier who greatly distinguished himself in many of 
the battles of the war for the Union. The subject of this 
brief sketch has his home at 2001 Diamond Street, but Ivs walk 
in life is so quiet and unostentatious that but comparatively few of 
the present generation, immersed as they are in strenuous com- 
mercialism, with a faint memory of the greatest conflict recorded 
in history, are cognizant of the brilliant services rendered by him 
on numerous occasions during the long and bitter struggle. 

The writer has no intention in this sketch of rehearsing the 
valuable services performed by Brigadier-General James Stewart, 
Jr., through the bloody conflict of 1861-1865, but simply to relate 
.a thrilling episode at the battle of Newbern, N. C, March 14, 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 159 

1862, when two New Jerseymen, one attired in heaven's azure 
blue, the other wearing the gray of early morning, fought a duel 
to the death. 

General Stewart, a captain in the famous Ninth New Jersey 
Volunteers, at the age of eighteen years, had won a soldier's repu- 
tation for brilliant conduct at the battle and capture of Roanoke 
Island a month previous, the first engagement in which New 
Jersey troops participated, and his men, young farmer boys from 
Warren County, reposing the utmost confidence in his leadership, 
had the greatest admiration for his skill and daring. They had 
seen his bright blade gleaming at the fore-front in the deadly 
swamp at Roanoke, and his Spartan-like example at Newbern, 
really the second Union victory of the war, incited them to deeds 
of heroism. 

After the Ninth — a regiment of riflemen composed of twelve 
hundred superb young men from office, workshop and farm — had 
swung into its long double line of battle, covering a space of 
twelve hundred feet, directly fronting elaborate earthworks, 
mounting five guns, and defended by a strong force of Con- 
federates, including Colonel Zebulon Vance's 26th North Caro- 
lina mountaineers, a command that sustained during the war a 
heavier loss in killed than any other in either army, Captain 
Stewart and his company (H) found itself deployed on the 
extreme left of the Union line, facing a grim Confederate re- 
doubt, mounting two shining field pieces. 

Although the writer has frequently met General Stewart 
during all these intervening years, now nearly half a century, he 
has never heard his gallant comrade and commander allude to 
the particular circumstance that impels this sketch. The innate 
modesty which has ever characterized General Stewart, as well 
as the sad reflection of his encounter in deadly battle with a 
former friend and townsman, have been sufficient to keep his 
lips sealed in regard to the desperate affray, brought on through 
no fault of his own. 

Tall and of commanding mien, his stalwart form loomed 
along his line as he passed and repassed giving directions to his 
men, making him a conspicuous mark for the enemy's sharp- 
shooters, occupying advantageous positions of comparative 
safety. His face, chiseled like that of Achilles, brightened at 
times by the gallant conduct of the brave farmer boys who de- 
lighted in following his lead, was again overshadowed as he saw 
his boyhood companions dropping at his feet in the heat of battle, 
melting away, as it were, like mist before the rising sun. 



160 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Captain Stewart, finally finding himself as especially marked 
for complimentary attention on the part of the Confederate 
marksmen, a well-directed bullet having passed through his 
high-crowned slouch hat, carrying away one of the gilt orna- 
ments, together with a lock of his raven-colored hirsute appen- 
dage, on which he greatly prided himself, took a rifle from the 
death-grasp of one of the men lying at his feet, who no longer 
had use for the weapon, and securing some cartridges, made his 
way to a spot well adapted for the desperate purpose he had in 
view. Using his field-glasses in surveying the enemy's works, 
hoping thereby to locate the man who had ruined his new $18 
hat, the captain at length discovered the object of his annoyance 
crouching behind one of the field guns, distinctly to be seen 
through the embrasure. Watching a favorable opportunity, the 
intrepid Union officer, after carefully adjusting the sight on his 
rifle, and taking deliberate aim, let drive at his antagonist, who, 
at the moment, rifle in hand, appeared at the opening. Although 
an expert marksman. Captain Stewart, greatly to his mortifica- 
tion and disappointment, found his shot ineffective, as the next 
instant a curl of white smoke and the whiz of a bullet in close 
proximity to his left ear fully satisfied him. 

Convinced he had a foeman worthy of his steel to deal with, 
and that heroic measures or a clever ruse must be adopted to 
circumvent his wily antagonist, Captain Stewart, recalling some 
of Davy Crockett's devices in his warfare with Indians, finally 
hit upon a plan that he hoped would prove successful in putting 
hors du combat the enterprising Confederate who had bored a 
big hole through his hat, and attempted to rob him of life and 
further usefulness to his country. Placing his hat on the muzzle 
of his loaded rifle he elevated the weapon a foot or two above 
where he was lying on the ground, and the next instant, deceived 
by the decoy, the exultant Confederate blazed away. In doing 
so, he exposed, as Captain Stewart had supposed he would, the 
upper portion of his body, and ere he could lower his still smok- 
ing rifle or withdraw from the open port-hole, an unerring ball 
from the patient Union captain's gun went crashing through the 
confident Confederate's head, thus effectually closing one of the 
most interesting incidents of the battle. 

Captain Stewart, satisfied with the result of the encounter, 
and feeling he had no more to apprehend from that particular 
Confederate, rejoined his men, a few yards away, and after bid- 
ding them closely watch the two guns pointing dangerously in 
their direction, gave no further thought to the stirring incident 
in which he had been one of the principal actors. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 161 

An hour or so after this, however, when Captain Stewart, at 
the head of his command, charged the hill occupied by the enemy, 
and, sword in hand, leaped into the Confederate works, bristling 
with men and bayonets, which he quickly brushed aside, he was 
surprised to find that the man with whom he had had the deadly 
encounter, was no less a personage than the commander of the 
battery — Captain William C. Martin, whom he had long known 
at his boyhood home, as a resident of Washington, Warren 
County, New Jersey. 

Saddened for a moment at this recognition. Captain Stewart, 
animated by the cheers of his men, as well as by the loud huzzas 
of the gallant Fifty-first Pennsylvania Regiment, under the noble 
and intrepid Hartranft, which closely followed the Ninth New 
Jersey into the works at this point, reformed his company and. 
instantly started in pursuit of the hastily retreating foe towards 
the city of Newbern, two miles away, and on the morrow re- 
traced his steps to the blood-stained field, where he gave decent 
sepulture to the brave but misguided Jerseyman, who, unlike the 
Copperheads at home, had the courage of his convictions and 
bravery enough to fight for a cause he had been taught to believe 
was right. 

I might add that had not Captain Stewart stopped to view 
the body of the Confederate he could readily have secured a 
battle-flag within his reach, belonging to the "Beaufort Plow- 
boys," which one of his sergeants found in the grasp of the dead 
standard-bearer — the first Confederate ensign captured in battle 
by New Jersey troops, and which, after careful preservation by 
the state authorities, the Legislature, at my request, three years 
ago, ordered to be returned by the survivors of the Ninth Regi- 
ment to the patriotic governor — Glenn — of the Old North State, 
which was accordingly so done during the ceremonies attending 
the unveiling of the Ninth's monument in the National Cemetery 
at Newbern. 

General Stewart was the last colonel of the Ninth, and in 
the last campaign of the war commanded a division in the Twen- 
ty-third Corps, blazing the way from Newbern to Goldsboro, and 
for distinguished gallantry, as well as in his capture of that city, 
was promoted to brigadier-general. He is the only New Jersey 
officer of that rank now surviving. 

For some years General Stewart was chief of police of Phila- 
delphia, and I am glad to know that to-day, with no shadow of 
the old peril on his still handsome face, he is occupying a high 
position on an official board in the City of Brotherly Love, and 
enjoying the respect of his fellow-citizens. 



162 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



BRxWE SOLDIER WHOM LINCOLN KISSED. 

COLONEL CHARLES H. HOUGHTON, past comman- 
der of the Department of New Jersey, G. A. R., enjoys 
the singular distinction of having, when a full grown 
man, been affectionately kissed by President Lincoln. Colonel 
Houghton, at an early age, raised and organized Company L. 
Fourteenth New York Heavy Artillery. 

When General Grant, in the early spring of 1864, started 
overland for Richmond, and went thundering through the Wil- 
derness to besiege the Confederate capital, he took with him the 
Fourteenth Regiment and other command of heavy artillery 
that had had pleasant occupation for a long period in guarding 
the fortifications about Washington. 

It is not my purpose to rehearse the valuable services ren- 
dered by Captain Houghton and his command in the arduous 
and deadly campaign, which lasted all through 1864, only ending 
April 9, 1865, by the triumph of the glorious Army of the Poto- 
mac, at Appomattox, and the surrender of General Lee and the 
immortal remnant of his gallant Army of Northern Virginia 
to General Grant, but to recite the circumstances under which 
the "Greatest American" bent over a lowly cot in a field hos- 
pital, filled with dead and dying braves, and impressed his elo- 
quent lips on the cheek of the wan and pale-faced and apparently 
dying soldier. 

For the great skill and bravery displayed by Captain Hough- 
ton in a desperate charge he made at the time of the Mine Ex- 
plosion, in front of Petersburg, commonly known as the "Battle 
of the Crater," he was assigned by General Grant to the com- 
mand of Fort Haskell, a very important and exposed position, 
having under his charge in the works three hundred and fifty 
men, including Captain Werner's Third New Jersey Light Bat- 
tery, and other artillery organizations. 

It was by Captain Houghton's heroic defense of Fort Has- 
kell, early on the morning of March 25, 1865, when he admin- 
istered a stunning defeat to General John B. Gordon's fierce 
attempt to break through General Grant's lines, that he received 
three ghastly wounds, one of which was produced by a shell 
exploding at his feet, carrying away his right leg, torn off above 
the knee. 

Although I have frequently met Colonel Houghton at the 
annua 1 , reunions of the Medal of Honor Legion (of which we 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



163 



are both members), I have never heard my gallant friend allude 
to the particular circumstance that impels this sketch. 

In the unexpected and terrific onslaught which General 
Gordon made before daylight that ever memorable March morn- 
ing, a fortnight before Appomattox became a familiar name 
the wide world over, Captain Houghton's bright blade, gleaming 
amid red glare and early morning light, and his Spartan-like ex- 
ample incited his men to deeds of as great heroism as were 
ever displayed on fields of carnage. His tall, lithe and manly 
form loomed everywhere along the serried Union line, illumined 
by the red glare of guns, both great and small, which melted the 
charging lines as mist before the rising sun. His face, bright- 
ened at times by the gallant conduct of his braves, many of 
whom had been his boyhood companions, and again over- 
shadowed with anxiety and the fearful responsibility resting 
upon his young shoulders, lest Gordon's inspired followers 
might yet succeed in forcing their way through his weak line, 
thus jeopardizing the safety of the army, and again pained on 
seeing his devoted followers fall by his side like leaves in 
autumn. 

Major William S. Greenough, of the Eighteenth New 
Hampshire Volunteers, who was sorely wounded in front of 
Petersburg April 2, 1865, and carried to the hospital at City 
Point, nine miles in the rear, recently narrated the following 
intensely interesting story, being a witness of the pretty inci- 
dent in the official life of our sainted President. After describ- 
ing the rude frame hospital building in which he and nearly 
one hundred officers lay bleeding on cots, he said : 

"In the first of a long row of buildings, known as the 'offi- 
cers' ward,' there were on the afternoon of April 2, 1865, sixty 
officers of the Ninth Corps, all of whom had been wounded in 
the Fort Stedman fight of March 25, or in the operations on 
the Petersburg lines of April 1 and 2. As one entered the 
building from the main avenue, there lay in the first cot of the 
right-hand row a young officer in whom all the other occu- 
pants of the building (who were not too much engrossed with 
their own troubles) were deeply interested, Captain Charles H. 
Houghton, of the Fourteenth New York Heavy Artillery. 

"Captain Houghton had borne a highly distinguished part 
in the daybreak fight at Fort Stedman, and later in the morn- 
ing, in the defense of Fort Haskell, received three severe 
wounds. Two of these wounds had been received very early in 
the action, but the captain had resolutely refused to leave his 



164 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

command until Gordon's Confederates had all been killed, cap- 
tured or driven back, Fort Stedman re-taken, and our lines re- 
established. His splendid bravery had been highly commended 
by his superior officers, and for it he was promoted by the 
President to the rank of brevet-major. 

"When placed in the next cot to Major Houghton's, late 
in the afternoon of April 2, I was familiar with the story of 
his bravery, as were most of the men of our division, and so 
long as life lasts shall I be thankful for the privilege of a fort- 
night's study of his patience, modesty, cheerfulness and heroism. 
Major Houghton's age was probably about 22 or 23 years. 
About six feet in height and slender, with classic features, very 
black hair and full black eyes, he was a noble-looking soldier. 
He had suffered amputation of the right leg above the knee, and 
in consequence was extremely pale ; his life, indeed, was thought 
to hang by a thread, and the very first inquiry in the morning 
and throughout the day from the occupants of the cots was 
'How is Houghton? Will he pull through?' 

"It happened that my injury necessitated lying on my left 
side, and so, separated as our cots were, by little more than an 
arm's length, I was privileged to watch, to study, to pity and 
to love this man. On the night of April 6 there came a seri- 
ous crisis in Houghton's case, through a secondary hemorrhage 
of an artery of the amputated limb. Surgeons and nurses 
worked until daylight to assuage the flowing lifeblood. All in 
the ward were deeply interested, and there was many a sigh of 
relief from his companions when in the early morning word went 
down the line of cots that the artery had been 'taken up,' and 
there was yet ground for hope. 

"About 9 o'clock of the following morning the door which 
I lay facing opened, and from the surgeon in charge of the 
corps hospital, Dr. McDonald, came the command 'Attention ! 
The President of the United States.' To myself, and prob- 
ably to most of us, this was unexpected, for we had not known 
that President Lincoln had been visiting the army. 

"Raising my eyes to the doorway, I had my first sight of 
the President, and it was not an impressive one. His clothes 
were travel-stained, ill-fitting, and very dusty ; his hat was 
an immensely exaggerated type of the 'stovepipe' variety ; his 
neckwear was awry, and his face showed pressing need of the 
services of a barber. In short, his whole appearance seemed 
to justify the caricaturists of those days in their worst cartoons. 

"Unescorted, except by the surgeon, the President, bowing 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 165 

his tall form to enter the low doorway, stepped in, turned a step 
or two to the right, and, tenderly placing his hand on Hough- 
ton's forehead, stood for an instant looking into his face ; then, 
bending down to the low cot, as mother would to her child, he 
kissed Houghton's white cheek. 

"In voice so tender and so low that only my near proximity 
enabled me to hear, he began to talk to him, telling him how 
he had heard from Dr. McDonald all the story of his bravery 
in battle, his heroic fight for life, and quiet cheerfulness in hos- 
pital, and of the sad happening of the night. 

"Poor Houghton could only reply with faint smiles and 
whispers that were too low to reach my ears, but Mr. Lincoln 
heard, and a smile came to his grave face. Turning to the 
surgeon, the President asked to be shown the major's wounds, 
especially the amputated limb. Dr. McDonald tried to dissuade 
him by saying the sight, especially after what had just taken 
place, would be too shocking. But the President insisted, 
turned down the light covering and took a hasty look. Straight- 
ening up with a deep groan of pain and throwing up both his 
long arms, he cried out, 'Oh, this awful, awful war!' Then 
bending again to Houghton, with tears cutting wide furrows 
down his dust-stained cheeks, and with great sobs shaking him, 
he exclaimed: 'Poor boy! Poor boy! You must live! You 
must!' This time the major's whispered answer. T intend to, 
sir.' was just audible. With a tender parting handshake and 
a 'God bless you, my boy,' the President moved to the next 
cot in line, and to the next, and so on down the right and back 
■on the left side of the ward, with a warm handclasp and a simple, 
kind, fatherly word for each one. Then he passed out of the 
same door he had entered perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes 
before. 

"But for us it was a different place. We had seen there 
the soul of our srreat chief." 



USES HIS FIST IN CAPTURING FLAG. 

THIS book would be incomplete without a narration of a gal- 
lant action greatly distinguishing Captain Patrick DeLacy 
of Scranton, Pa., a sergeant of the One Hundred and 
Forty-third Pennsylvania Infantry, in the battles in the Wilder- 
ness in the spring of 1864. Sergeant DeLacy had shown the 
stuff of which he is made at the battle of Gettysburg, where, dur- 



166 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

ing the three days' fighting, his regiment took a prominent and 
active part, and was greatly decimated in numbers. The thrill- 
ing episode I will attempt to describe took place on the after- 
noon of the second day of the desperate and prolonged battle in 
the Wilderness, where Wadsworth's Division of Hancock's 
Corps won immortal renown by repelling fierce charges of Long- 
street's Corps, and occupying its works, which had been gal- 
lantly defended and tenaciously held. 

It was after a brief respite that the survivors of the One 
Hundred and Forty-third Regiment, who had occupied the time 
at their disposal in cleaning their rifles and replenishing cartridge- 
boxes with ammunition taken from the bodies of the dead which 
surrounded them, were ordered by the "Superb" Hancock to ad- 
vance and reinforce the depleted Union line at the Cross-Roads, 
then in imminent danger of being overpowered. The One Hun- 
dred and Forty-third, led by Company A, Sergeant DeLacy in 
command, the commissioned officers having been rendered hors 
du combat, dashed forward on the double-quick across an open 
space towards the woods on the left of the plank road, Long- 
street's advancing veterans on the Brock Road being less than 
one hundred rods distant. 

Under a terribly galling and destructive fire, a fierce storm 
of iron and leaden hail, the impulsive and gallant Pennsylvanians, 
who were dropping at every step, pushed on towards the objec- 
tive point under the inspiring example and skillful leadership of 
Sergeant DeLacy, who never quailed at any danger, nor sought 
refuge in the red heat of battle. When the works had been 
occupied, and the blue and gray lines grimly confronted each 
other at a few rods' distance, a Confederate color-bearer, doubt- 
less expecting his comrades would follow his heroic lead, leaped 
over the works, and waved his tattered flag of rebellion in token 
of defiance to the Unionists. The brave Southron's act, worthy of 
all praise, was enthusiastically cheered by the Confederates, who, 
however, seeing the utter futility of following his example, re- 
mained behind their breastwork of heavy logs. 

This act of defi on the part of the bold Confederate standard- 
bearer had the same effect on Sergeant DeLacy that a red 
fabric would produce if flaunted before a bovine, and so highly 
enraged the Union sergeant that he instinctively sprang over 
the earthwork behind which his command had taken refuge, and 
sprinting along that narrow valley between the two lines of 
deadly fire, with cannon thundering to his left and to his front, 
amid a shower of leaden missiles, ran "into the jaws of Death,. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 167 

into the mouth of hell," to punish an insolent foeman, and wrest 
from him a piece of woof representing a cause abhorren: to 
every fibre of his nature. 

To the intense surprise of thousands of brave men who 
witnessed this unparalleled act of daring, DeLacy quickly 
reached the vaunting and unsuspecting Southerner, and dexter- 
ously dealing him a blow with his right fist under the jaw that 
would have reflected credit on the "champion pugilist of the 
world," the standard-bearer and his "Bonnie Flag" went down, 
and before the discomfitted Southron regained consciousness or 
his comrades could intervene, DeLacy, who had seized the price- 
less trophy, was speeding on his return to his command, running 
the fiery gauntlet in safety, amid the hearty huzzas of the Union 
troops, to the infinite surprise and chagrin of the Confederates, 
who were doubtless struck with admiration at the successful 
performance of an act that elicited the warmest commendation 
on the part of DeLacy's companions, and secured for him the 
Congressional Medal of Honor, the highest decoration for mili- 
tary merit ever conferred by the United States Government to 
its defenders. 



THE GREAT RAILROAD RAID. 

FEW people to-day recall the most thrilling and dramatic ad- 
venture of the Civil War, in which some twenty patriotic 
and self-sacrificing young Ohio soldiers engaged in the 
early part of 1862, when they penetrated the enemy's country 
several hundred miles to deal a severe blow to the Southern Con- 
federacy. Had this remarkable enterprise, attended as it was 
by deadly perils, resulted in success, the disastrous battle of 
Shiloh (Pittsburg Landing) would not have been fought. 

As it was never difficult to obtain fearless volunteers in the 
Union army for any undertaking, however perilous, General O. 
M. Mitchell, commanding the L T nion forces near Shelbyville, 
Tenn.. sent orders to the colonels of the three Ohio regiments of 
Sill's brigade, to select a man from each company for "special 
and hazardous service." This done, the men chosen were se- 
cretly provided with the plain garb of every-day life, a large 
revolver, plenty of ammunition, and a liberal supply of Confed- 
erate notes. 

The men were then quietly told to make their way to a com- 



168 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

mon point in Shelbyville to meet J. J. Andrews, a noted Union 
scout, under whose orders they would act. On reaching the 
rendezvous the volunteers were bidden by their leader, a perfect 
stranger to the entire party, to form squads, travel east into 
the Cumberland mountains, then southerly to the Tennessee 
River, and from thence to Chattanooga, at that time a small 
village occupied by a strong force of Confederates, where a train 
would be taken for Marietta, Georgia. Despite manifold dan- 
gers and many misgivings on the part of the bold adventurers, 
the entire party succeeded in reaching the railroad station at 
Chattanooga on time, and at the hour designated all embarked for 
Marietta, arriving there at midnight and registering at the Tre- 
mont House, where beds were occupied for the last time in many 
weary and painful months. 

Andrews, leader of the expedition, who scarcely closed his 
eyes during the night, roused his followers before daybreak, and 
gathering them in his room, gave the following instructions : 

"When the train we are about to take stops at 'Big Shanty,' 
(now Kenesaw) for breakfast keep your places till I tell you to 
go. Get seats near each other in the same car and say nothing 
about the matter on the way up. If anything unexpected occurs 
look to me for the word. You and you (designating the men) 
will go with me on the engine ; all the rest will go to the left 
of the train forward of where it is uncoupled, and climb on the 
cars in the best places you can when the order is given. If any- 
body interferes, shoot him, but don't fire until it is necessary." 

Andrews, during the conference, took the precaution to keep 
his bedroom door locked. At length, when the train came slowly 
up to the station, the adventurers saw that three closed box-cars 
were attached immediately behind the engine, with several pas- 
senger cars in the rear. Andrews and his men purchased tickets to 
various points along the line of the road to prevent suspicion, as 
it was quite unusual for so many persons to board a train at 
Marietta at one time. 

It was a thrilling moment when the conductor, William A. 
Fuller, comparatively a young man, and brave and active, as was 
soon after ascertained, called: "Big Shanty! Twenty minutes 
for breakfast !" This station had been selected for the seizure of 
the train because it was a stopping place for breakfast and without 
a telegraph office, although it was an important military post, 
occupied by no less than four Confederate regiments, numbering 
one thousand men each. 

The train had scarcely stopped ere the hungry engineer, fire- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 169 

man, conductor and most of the passengers, hastened to the long, 
low shed which gave the station its name, on the side opposite the 
encampment, for breakfast. Andrews, accompanied by Engineer 
Knight, without turning his eyes to his anxious men, rose from 
his seat and went out of the car with the crowd that was pouring 
out to get something to eat. When they reached the locomotive 
and saw at a glance that it had been deserted, the two men re- 
traced their steps to the rear of the third box-car, from the 
coupling of which the engineer deftly and quickly withdrew the 
iron pin, laying it carefully on the draw-bar. 

It was at this highly-exciting moment, and only then, that 
the imperturbable Andrews mounted the platform of the car in 
which his followers were still seated, and opening the door, said 
in his ordinary tones: "Come, boys; it is now time to go." Can 
you, reader, imagine the state of mind among those brave and 
desperate men at this supreme moment of action ? They realized 
the imminent dangers by which they were surrounded, the swiftly- 
passing moments seeming like hours. They knew the desperate 
work they had set out to accomplish, for which they had per- 
formed a long and fatiguing journey through the heart of the 
Southern Confederacy, the second act of which they were just 
entering upon, and that but a few seconds remained in which to 
accomplish a necessary part of their mission, or be slaughtered 
on the spot by ready soldiers. Each man keenly realized that 
he who failed to get within the car selected would be lost. 

The instant Andrews saw his men upon the ground he 
quietly ordered them to get into the hindmost box-car, the door 
of which he had previously audaciously opened, so thoughtful 
was he of every necessary movement. His followers needed no 
urging, and although the floor of the car was breast high, and 
armed Confederate soldiers were doing duty within a few paces 
of the train, they all clambered in without molestation on the part 
of the soldiers, who watched their action without interest. 

When Andrews saw the last man safely aboard the car, 
he glided swiftly forward, and Engineer Knight seeing him rap- 
idlv approaching, sprang on the engine, cut the bell-rope, and 
seizing the throttle-bar, stood leaning forward with tense muscles 
and both eyes fastened on the anxious but determined face of 
his leader. As the latter bounded upon the locomotive he gave 
a significant nod to the waiting engineer, who, quick as a flash, 
opened the valve that unchained the steam giant they had cap- 
tured. 

But, horror of horrors ! For a single instant, a seeming 



170 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

eternity to Andrews, the engine failed to move forward, the engi- 
neer in his wild excitement having too suddenly thrown on the 
full power, thus causing the wheels to slip on the rails and 
swiftly revolve. The engineer, however, speedily overcame the 
inertia, and before the staring soldiers had time to raise their 
muskets or raise an alarm, which they did not think it their 
duty to do, the rapidly revolving wheels "bit" the iron tracks and 
the train shot forward as if fired from a catapult. 

The bold raiders, in an ecstacy of delight over their truly 
wonderful triumph — a moment of rapture that never returned 
to any of them — and with greater confidence than ever in their 
skillful leader, were at last on the most perilous part of their 
journey, with absolute faith in the successful accomplishment 
of their self-imposed task. The door of the box-car, in which 
were huddled nineteen men, instantly closed when they took pos- 
session, was never opened when nearing or passing a station. 

I cannot attempt to picture, much less describe, within the 
limits of the space allowed me, the course of the runaway train, 
as it dashed along upon the well-worn light iron rails, around 
short curves and over covered frail wooden bridges spanning 
streams, nor tell of the quick pursuit and hot chase by the con- 
ductor who had been deprived, of his train. Suffice it to say, the 
latter, securing another train which came unexpectedly into his 
hands, made immediate pursuit, resulting in the running down 
of the runaway, after a most exciting chase of many miles, almost 
to Chattanooga itself. 

Rev. William Pittenger, a private in the Second Ohio Regi- 
ment, a member of the expedition, and after the war a Methodist 
clergyman stationed for some years in South Jersey, in his book, 
"Daring and Suffering," in describing the pursuit and movement 
of the runaway train, wrote: 

"There was an exultant sense of superiority while moving 
along in the midst of our enemies in this manner, such as a man 
in a balloon might feel while drifting over hostile camps, or over 
the raging waves of the ocean. As long as all is well with his 
balloon the man need not care what takes place in the world 
below; and as long as our engine retained its power, and the 
track was clear before us. we were in a similar state of security. 
But a knife-blade thrust in the silk globe overhead, or the slight- 
est tear in the delicate fabric will, in a second, take away the 
security of the man in the clouds. So the loosening of a bolt 
or the breaking of a wheel would leave us powerless in the midst 
of our deadly enemies. It was such possibilities, always so near. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 171 

that imparted thrilling interest to our passage through towns and 
fields and woods in the heart of the enemy's country." 

While, from a combination of unlooked-for causes, not the 
least of which was a raging rain-storm, insuring the safety of 
bridges which the raiders intended to destroy by fire, the daring 
project failed of consummation, it was not wholly without bene- 
ficial results to our army in the southwest, owing to a diversion 
of the enemy's forces, then on the way to attack Grant at Shiloh. 
The raid, too, was worth a great deal, if it only dispelled the 
delusion entertained by many both north and south before the 
war, that "one Southern man was worth five 'Yankees !' ' An- 
drews' bold and dashing raid shook this feeling, and caused 
Southerners thereafter to respect the possibilities of Northern 
valor. 

When within nine miles of Chattanooga, the objective point 
of the raiders, the stolen engine, out of water and fuel, and 
otherwise disabled, with persistent, relentless pursuers close at 
hand, came to a full and final stop. It was alone in its glory, 
the box-cars having, one by one, been detached along the road, 
with the view of checking the progress of the pursuing train. 

The moment of the terrible parting had arrived. The brave 
and gallant men who had perilled everything to serve the cause 
to which they were ardently devoted, and who had been in exult- 
ing raptures during the day over the success attending their 
efforts, had at last come to the parting of the ways. With many 
armed pursuers close at hand, one by one descended to the step 
of the still moving locomotive, swung off, and sought safety in 
hurried flight into the adjoining woods. The greatest railroad 
raid and chase ever conceived and carried out, was ended ! 

The entire party was soon after captured among the moun- 
tains in East Tennessee, and immediately confined in dungeons 
at Knoxville and Chattanooga. On the eighth of June, Andrews, 
the leader, was hung on Peachtree avenue, Atlanta (now a fash- 
ionable thoroughfare), the heavy chains with which he had been 
manacled, clanking harshly as he walked upright to the 
rude gallows. A vast crowd of spectators witnessed the execu- 
tion, a bungling affair, the cotton rope attached to his neck 
stretching so much that after the drop the shackled feet rested 
upon the ground. When sufficient earth had been shoveled away, 
the soul of the brave and uncomplaining scout was liberated. 

A few days afterwards occurred on the same spot, the exe- 
cution of seven gallant Ohio soldiers, whose only crime was 
faithful service to their country. They died together, or rather 



172 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

would have done so had not the ropes to which two of their 
number had been fastened, broken when they dropped. While 
five corpses dangled in the sultry air of that hot June day, the 
two heroic men thus precipitated to the ground, after recovering 
from a state of insensibility, begged for water, and when their 
burning thirst had been somewhat quenched, they implored for 
an hour's time in which to pray and make peace with their Crea- 
tor. The Confederates, not wishing to prolong the agony of 
the spectacle, at once procured new ropes, and after adjusting 
the broken platform, again led the two men up the steps. Once 
more these brave Union soldiers faced the great expectant throng, 
many of whom, including Confederate soldiers, were in tears at 
the sad sight, and in a few minutes all was over. As no coffins 
had been provided, the moment life was extinct the seven bodies 
were cut down and closely deposited in a shallow trench previously 
excavated nearby. 

The other members of the unfortunate expedition were con- 
fined in various prisons until late in the summer of 1863, when 
the United States obtained their release. They visited the White 
House at Washington by invitation and talked with President 
Lincoln and Secretary Stanton, and to each was given a Con- 
gressional Medal of Honor. 

"GUS" HOPKINS' BATTLE FOR WATER. 

FORTY-FOUR years may not be considered much of a 
span in the life of a Nation, and yet they are quite long 
enough to change the face of the world. While the Vet- 
eran Zouaves of Elizabeth were at Gettysburg last October, 
viewing the historic field whose precious soil was reddened by 
the blood of some members of the command in the long ago — a 
field made glorious by American valor, a field haunted by the 
souls of their departed comrades, hallowed by living memories, 
and made sacred as the spot whereon was imperishably written 
in words of living light another chapter in the gospel of freedom 
— Augustus Hopkins, a member of the command, whose soul still 
burns with patriotism and a love for our flag, entertained his 
fellow Zouave pilgrims by relating numerous incidents of the 
great three days' conflict, in which he took an humble though 
active part. 

After the Zouaves had descended Cemetery' Hill, and the 
automobiles in which they were making a tour of the field had 
stopped at what is known as "Spangler's Spring," which flows 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 173 

as freely to-day as in those terribly hot days in July, 1863, when 
the life of the Nation was supremely at stake, and two hundred 
thousand men at that point were locked in deadly embrace, "Gus" 
sprang from the vehicle, and, after quenching his thirst from a 
gourd filled with the crystal fluid, told the following story : 

"Boys," said he to the Zouaves, "to the last breath of my 
life I shall never cease to remember an adventure I had at this 
spring at midnight July 2, 1863. Our corps — the Twelfth — 
as you know, occupied the extreme right of our army during the 
last two days of the battle, and it was along Rock Creek here, 
after repulsing two fierce attacks of Ewell's Corps, that we 
had a lively and interesting time with the 'Johnnies' in preventing 
them from outflanking our corps, thus saving our army from 
defeat, if not capture. 

"It was as hot as Hades, if that place is as warm as some 
men represent it. in these woods that second of July night. Not 
a breath of air was stirring — all was as still as death. With 
others, I was suffering intensely for the want of water ; so much 
so, in fact, that my tongue at times cleaved to the roof of my 
mouth. I couldn't have expectorated had I tried, so terrible 
and burning was my thirst, so parched was my throat, and I 
determined to procure water, however dangerous and difficult 
the undertaking. Collecting half a dozen empty canteens belong- 
ing to the dead and dying about me, I started down the steep hill 
toward this spring, which I had located during the afternoon, and 
which I had since covetously regarded. For hours it had been 
my heart's desire to reach the spring. 

"Within the deep shadows of the woods surrounding me 
everything was as dark as Erebus, and the silence of death 
reigned. Not a star was visible through the dense foliage above 
me, as I cautiously pursued my way, intently listening for any 
sound that might betoken the whereabouts of any wideawake 
'Johnny,' and I finally succeeding in reaching the object of my 
fondest desire — this blessed spring of water — without discovery 
or molestation on the part of the exhausted and heavy-sleeping 
Confederates whom I knew must be in close proximity. 

"After filling my canteens and myself by copious draughts 
of the cool and refreshing God-given beverage until I thought 
my skin would explode, remembering very well what the Governor 
of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina on a 
certain memorable occasion, and well satisfied with the success 
that had attended my efforts, I started on my return to our lines, 
and when about half way up the long and tiresome hill, was sud- 



174 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

denly set upon by a powerfully-built man, who sprang from behind 
a tree, and seized me with a vise-like grip at my throat, hissing, 
'You're my prisoner!' 

"In the life and death struggle which instantly followed, I 
•dropped my rifle and grappled with the fellow, whom I quickly 
threw to the ground, and as he retained his hold I went down 
with him. I was no slouch in those days in a rough and tumble 
scratch, and after a desperate struggle in which I nearly squeezed 
the life out of him, I finally put him to sleep by hitting him on 
the head with a canteen — then deeming discretion the better part 
of valor, I took to my heels and was soon among my friends in 
the Twentieth, who rejoiced to get the water I had procured. 

"Lieutenant-Colonel Wooster, a few days after learning of 
the matter, instead of court-martialing me for leaving camp with- 
out permission, made me a sergeant. The next afternoon Pickett 
made his superb charge across those deadly fields in the valley 
against our living wall of blue on Cemetery Hill, but all I saw or 
heard of it were the comparatively harmless shot and shell which 
came bounding over the hill from the right of Seminary Ridge, 
where Longstreet's Corps was posted, and on the Fourth we 
commenced our long chase of Lee to the left bank of the Potomac 
River, which General Meade gave him ample time to cross with 
what remained of his gallant but defeated army." 

After Sergeant Hopkins had finished his interesting story, 
the Zouaves refreshed themselves from the famous and ever- 
living spring, and were rapidly whirled to their hotel in the 
quaint old town, reaching the hostelry just as the shades of an 
October night were veiling the grand old hills about the historic 
place. 

May not the Zouaves, while bivouacing on the sunlit and 
ever-glorious field of Gettysburg last fall, have seen phantom 
charges, with long lines melding away even as the snows of winter 
under the genial sunshine of springtime — ghosts in blue and gray 
grappling at the spring and on the grassy hillsides ? 

May not the bivouac of the Zouaves have been attended by 
the spirits of their former companions in arms, who sleep the 
sleep that knows no waking, and who there won both peace and 
glory for themselves and our blessed land? May it not be 
possible that our dead heroes reassemble at Gettysburg and live 
over again those three momentous July days, when they helped 
to decide the fate of a continent, and hewed out through the red 
soil of human flesh a path that is to be followed by all mankind ? 

It seemed so to the Zouaves last October. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 175 



SOLDIER SAVES SHIP'S CREW. 

AMONG the very gallant men who faithfully and efhciently 
served our country during the four years of the Civil War, 
was Corporal Samuel J. Dilks, who long since passed from 
-earth to that eternal home from whence none in all the ages past 
and gone have ever yet returned. 

The corporal, who belonged to my company, distinguished 
himself above his fellows on numerous occasions, but more espe- 
cially did he show the stuff of which he was made when he saved 
an entire ship's crew from being entombed in the Atlantic Ocean 
during a fierce storm, in which many vessels went to Davy Jones' 
locker. 

Dilks, born in Cape May, within sight of the everlasting 
waters which constantly wash the low pebbly strand near his 
humble habitation, whose peaceful and ever-rolling surf often 
lulled him to sleep, as well as awakened within him a spirit of 
unrest and ambition, joined Company K, Ninth New Jersey 
Volunteers, in October, 1861, and after passing unscathed through 
more than one hundred engagements, returned home at the close 
of the conflict to shortly after surrender his spirit to its Maker, 
and was tenderly laid away with those of his kin who had gone 
before. 

Corporal Dilks, having followed a seafaring life from boy- 
hood, was detailed at Fortress Monroe for special service on the 
steam transport "Pocahontas," one of the numerous craft com- 
posing the armada which rendezvoused there in January, 1862, 
under command of the patriotic and noble-hearted General Am- 
brose E. Burnside. 

The "Pocahontas," a worn-out screw propeller, heavily laden 
with artillery horses and military supplies, had been chartered by 
the Government under representations of her loyal and patriotic 
( ?) owners, blessed or cursed with elastic consciences, that the 
vessel came up to all the requirements of the service, and in 
due time the rotten old hulk, for such it proved to be, steamed 
out of Hampton Roads on her final voyage, as my story will 
show. 

While lumbering down the treacherous coast the "Pocahon- 
tas" was struck by a fierce gale of wind and snow, before which 
it was driven with irresistible force. The night came on with 
Cimmerian darkness, rendering it impossible for those on board 
the ill-fated craft to see anything with distinctness, and despite 



176 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

the combined efforts of the brave soldiers and sailors, the steamer, 
laboring hard, could not be kept head to the angry seas. The 
increasing winds blew with hurricane force, and the white waves 
ran mountain high, oftentimes almost burying the vessel beneath 
tons of water covering the deck, causing all to fear that each 
succeeding moment must be the last. 

At times the "Pocahontas" lay almost becalmed between over- 
towering waves — at one moment in the deep trough of the sea, 
at the next far up on the dissolving crest of a mighty and treach- 
erous billow. Competent men at the wheel, to which they were 
lashed, labored to keep the vessel's bow seaward, hoping it would 
be able to ride out the storm in safety. The hatches had long 
since been battened down and everything made as secure as possi- 
ble. The officers, feeling the terrible responsibility resting upon 
them, paced the slippery deck anxiously discussing the proba- 
bility of saving the ship. The men, realizing the awful dangers 
surrounding them, were quiet and obedient, acting throughout the 
long and terrible night in a manner worthy of the highest com- 
mendation. 

When morning at last broke, the sight presented to the view 
of the distressed mariners was awe-inspiring. To their horror 
they beheld the low-ribbed shore but a short distance away, and 
to it the fated craft was swiftly sweeping on the merciless flood. 
The last hope fled when a huge, resistless wave fell like an ava- 
lanche upon the steamer's deck, tearing therefrom the stout oaken 
planks as if they had been paper. A flood of water at once 
found its way below, extinguishing the furnace fires. 

It was in this dire extremity, as a dernier resort, that the 
heavy port anchor was let go with a run, in obedience to the orders 
of the brave-hearted captain, and as the heavy chain passed 
through the hawser-hole the friction was so great that a stream 
of fire followed in its wake. Would the anchor hold? was the 
anxious query of every man on board. Would it keep the now 
helpless steamer from the drear and uninviting shore? These 
were the all-absorbing questions of the imperiled crew. 

The fatal moment, however, was not long in coming, as, with 
a frightful thump the "Pocahontas" struck broadside on, immense 
seas, quickly succeeding each other, sweeping completely over 
her. Each incoming gigantic wave played with the vessel as 
with a toy. raising the doomed craft to its summit, then hurling 
it like a chip, to the ocean's bottom, its timbers snapping and 
cracking with alarming distinctness, apparently ending all hope 
for a rescue. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 177 

While the anxiously looked-for day had come, it afforded but 
little encouragement to the fatigued and distressed crew, whose 
only instinct was self-preservation, as it soon became apparent 
that the vessel must be quickly abandoned. But how could this 
be done ? The two small boats that had hung on the davits when 
the vessel left Fortress Monroe, were found, upon examination, 
to be useless, having been stove in by rough usage of the waves. 
Indeed, were the boats in proper condition and successfully 
launched, they could not live an instant in the almost cloud- 
reaching billows which constantly engulfed the vessel. 

The crew, now without hope of reaching shore in safety, 
were suddenly brought to a realizing sense of the peril surround- 
ing them, when Corporal Dilks, who had spent the night below 
deck caring for the affrighted and suffering horses, appeared in 
their midst, and, taking a view of the situation, proposed to swim 
ashore with a line. Those about him stood aghast at the propo- 
sition. " 'Tis the only road to safety," replied Dilks to the ex- 
postulations of his companions. "No more talk, boys," he con- 
tinued, "bring me a long light line, and I'll try it. I have been 
in scrapes like this before." 

Although naturally surprised at the bold proposition, the 
sailors and soldiers, from what they had seen of Dilks, believed 
him capable of accomplishing almost anything, and some of them 
were put to shame when they saw this Jersey volunteer soldier 
divest himself of coat and shoes, fasten one end of the line around 
his waist, and, mounting the gunwale, await a favorable moment 
for making his desperate plunge into the wild and cold waters. 
Dilks, standing there with his long mustache floating in the 
wind, was a subject for a painter. "Keep your eyes on me," he 
raid to his terror-stricken comrades, as he sprang in among 
the violent and angry breakers, and almost before he could again 
be seen the brave corporal was standing upon the misty strand, 
exposed to a pitiless wind, blowing strongly from the northeast, 
causing the hearts of the crew to beat more wildly than before, 
as the hour and mode of deliverance seemed at hand. 

A larger-sized rope was then attached to the end of the line 
remaining on shipboard, and this Dilks hauled to the low, sandy 
and storm-swept beach. Then, with a mighty effort, a hawser 
was similarly drawn from the stranded ship to the shore, through 
the herculean efforts of the corporal. This he was able to fasten 
securely to an old spar he providentially discovered some little 
distance away, and which he managed to sink in the wet sand by 
excavating with his hands. When the shore end had thus been 



178 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



secured, the sailors tightened the hawser on the vessel's deck, 
and one by one they deserted the doomed craft by means of the 
improvised rope bridge, all reaching terra firma in safety, al- 
though the difficult passage was far from being pleasant. Each 
man was subjected to fearful perils, fierce billows at times passing 
completely over and momentarily hiding the aerial passengers 
from sight. The utmost caution was observed in traversing the 
narrow and uncertain structure, which, moved by the breakers, 
vibrated with terrible unsteadiness. 

Although the sailors and soldiers had thus safely reached 
the bleak and barren beach, they had not been able, in their en- 
forced and hasty flight, to save any of their effects, and all they 
possessed, as they stood wet and shivering from the icy blasts, 
was upon their persons. The gale continuing with unabated 
violence, the situation of these men was anything but inviting. 
Not a sign of civilization was anywhere visible, and not a man 
in the sad-hearted group had any means about him by which a 
fire could be kindled, a necessity that was pressing upon them. 

As the party, suffering intensely from the cold, was about 
starting from the scene of mishap and misery, an agonizing 
human cry was borne to it on the wings of the howling winds. 
The men closely scan the shore, but not a living object save 
some of Mother Cary's chickens, can be seen. While still paus- 
ing and wondering what the sound means, a wild, agonizing cry 
again pierces their ears, and looking seaward, to the still pound- 
ing vessel, all beheld in horror, the old colored female cook, 
standing at the ship's side, frantically waving a white apron, and 
shrieking with all the strength of her powerful lungs. She had 
been overlooked in the general flight, the men having all they 
could do to attend to themselves. The crew saw the futility of 
the woman's attempting to save herself by means of the rope- 
bridge, and felt that any effort they would be able to make to 
rescue her would be impotent. 

Meantime the ship, rapidly going to pieces, continued to 
dash upon the angry billows, portions of it being swept to the 
shore. At one moment the craft would be on beam ends, but 
would speedily right itself. Again it was believed to have dis- 
appeared, carrying the aged cook to a watery grave, but upon its 
reappearance and a renewal of appeals for help, Corporal Dilks, 
whose heart had never quailed with fear, stood fast in his tracks, 
and declared he would never leave the spot until the "old gal," 
as he familiarly called her. was ashore in safety, or he had 
found his fate in the angry seas. The corporal's companions, 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 179 

water-soaked, hungry and distressed, and anxious to find a haven 
of comfort, made every effort to dissuade him from attempting 
a return to the foundered vessel, declaring it was little better 
than self-destruction. Even were he able to reach the vessel, 
they argued, he would not be able to bear the woman through 
the waves, owing to her great weight, something more than 
200 pounds. 

But Corporal Dilks, to his everlasting honor be it said, paid 
no heed to the objections interposed by his comrades; on the 
contrary, the more they remonstrated against his proposed act, 
the more determined was his resolve to do or die, and walking 
deliberately out into the cold and raging surf, he seized the still 
swinging hawser with his left hand, then swam vigorously with 
his powerful right. His movements were closely watched by 
those on shore, and when finally they saw him reach the vessel 
and leap agilely over its side, and received a signal from him as 
he gained the slippery deck, they acknowledged the greeting, 
.and responded with three of the heartiest cheers ever heard on 
that inhospitable beach. 

The cook, who in her frenzy had been calling wildly for 
assistance, while heartily glad to see Corporal Dilks standing at 
her side, firmly declined to take advantage of the instruction 
and advice tendered by the brave soldier, insisting that the cor- 
poral, who, by the way, was of spare build, would be unable to 
carry her ashore, which he told her, he had come to do. Dilks, 
of course, thought the obdurate woman ungrateful and unap- 
preciative, considering the sacrifice he had made in her behalf, 
and unwilling or not, he determined, as he had incurred personal 
risk in her behalf, that she should go ashore with him — one way 
or another. 

Procuring a piece of light rope unperceived by the cook, 
Dilks, watching his opportunity, quickly seized her in his iron 
grasp, and deftly enveloping her arms, bound her to his back, 
and despite her quite formidable resistance, succeeded in getting 
Tier to the ship's battered side, from which he plunged into the 
«*eething waters, and almost before those on shore realized the 
act, they saw the corporal, with his half-unconscious burden, 
struggling in the angry surf, not many yards away. With a 
cheer, the crew rushed into the foaming billows, and seizing the 
almost exhausted but lion-hearted corporal, assisted him to a 
place of safety. The cook no sooner found herself upon terra 
firma than she gave vent to the great joy she felt by jumping 
about on the sodden and storm-swept beach, in her rhapsody 



180 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

exclaiming, "Glory, glory, Hallelujah, praise the Lawd," to the 
no small delight of her gallant preserver and his smiling com- 
panions. 

Then commenced a long, disagreeable and fatiguing tramp 
down the inhospitable stretch of sand to Hatteras inlet, where 
such vessels belonging to Burnside's fleet as had not been lost 
in the hurricane, had alreadv arrived. 



UNPARALLELED FEAT OF TUNNELING. 

THE death recently at Washington of Colonel Thomas El- 
wood Rose of the Seventy-seventh Pennsylvania Volun- 
teers, who greatly distinguished himself in the Civil War 
by the performance of an unparalleled feat, brings to my mind 
an incident that made him famous and attracted great attention 
throughout the country at the time — about which much has 
since been said and written. It was in February, 1864, shortly 
before General Charles A. Heckman and myself, captured in 
battle at Drewry's Bluff, just below the Confederate capital, were 
committed to the tender mercies of "Dick" Turner, the inhos- 
pitable and surly keeper of Libby Prison, in Richmond, that the 
country was startled by the daring escape from that closely- 
guarded institution of Colonel Rose, projector of the enterprise, 
and more than one hundred of his fellow-captives. 

There has ever been a great fascination in the escape of pris- 
oners, and considerable romantic literature furnished, from De 
Saintine's "Piccola" to Baron Trenck's memoirs, as well as from 
Dumas's "Monte Christo" to the story of Colonel Rose, whose 
escape from Libby prison is considered as remarkable as any 
ever performed. 

Colonel's Rose's death, a few days ago, is a forcible re- 
minder of what large human passions are concerned in the sim- 
ple escape from durance vile, the insatiable love of freedom and 
liberty of action, the inherent dislike of mean and depressing 
conditions, the spirit of action and the hope of results which are 
involved to make men undergo dangers more terrible than those 
encountered on the battle-field, and engage in toil of the widest 
and most painful nature, that they may again breathe the free 
air of Heaven. 

Can the reader imagine the manifold dangers, difficulties 
and mountain of labor that beset Colonel Rose and his fifteen 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



181 



co-laborers as they burrowed night and day for more than two 
weeks under the gloomy and forbidding-looking structure, in 
which more than one thousand men of intrepid minds were 
so crowded that they were compelled to sleep spoon-fashion, 
head to head, and feet to feet? Having had a somewhat 
similar experience in tunnel operations in various prison- 
pens a little later in the same year, I can readily picture Col- 
onel Rose and his devoted followers working with fever-like 
haste under the most unfavorable circumstances, amid foul and 
oppressive odors, in danger of suffocation, with hands bleeding 
and strength exhausted. 

Beneath the massive brick and heavily-timbered building, 
whose great iron-barred cellars were often flooded by the waters 
of the Kanawha Canal, ever flowing on the south side, Colonel 
Rose and his fellow-workers began to dig for the liberty they 
had panted during long and dreary months. Operations were 
commenced in the easternmost apartment of the cellar, which 
soon became known as "Rat's hell," owing to the multitude of 
wharf rodents of immense size that had long held high revel 
and complete sway therein. 

Before engaging in his perilous undertaking, however, Colo- 
nel Rose, in an eloquent and impassioned speech, with his miser- 
able and dejected fellow-sufferers gathered closely about him, 
begged all to be true and steadfast in keeping the faith, as on 
the successful accomplishment of the scheme secrecy was abso- 
lutely necessary. He concluded his stirring appeal by adminis- 
tering a solemn obligation to all to guard well the greatest secret 
that could be imparted to men in their condition, whose lives, 
I might add, hung by a thread. All solemnly swore to be faith- 
ful to the trust so generously reposed in them. 

With every plan thoroughly matured, Colonel Rose and the 
fifteen noble fellows he had selected for the dangerous and fatigu- 
ing duty, after procuring a stout rope to be used as a means of 
descending and ascending from their apartment on the first 
floor to the uninviting cellar below, with the aid of an old and 
rusty chisel surreptitiously furnished by an old darky employed 
in the hospital, knocked a hole in the open fire-place, removing 
the bricks one by one with scrupulous care. When the work of 
the day or night had ended, the bricks were replaced and dex- 
terously covered with chimney soot, the better to hide all trace 
of having been tampered with. Colonel Rose had rightly guessed 
that the Confederates who made daily "rounds" of inspection 
would never look at the breast of the chimney, in plain view, 



182 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

and they never did, although they sometimes stopped before the 
fire-place to toast their feet. 

Colonel Rose, who had for a long time previously studied 
the prison and its surroundings from an iron-barred window in 
the east room (which I shortly afterwards occupied for a fort- 
night), planned to dig a tunnel from the building to a vacant 
wooden shed on the left bank of the canal, which although but 
seventy-five feet distant, yet required the performance of her- 
culean and distressingly painful labor in the accomplishment of 
the self-imposed task. 

Colonel Rose, first to disappear through the limited space 
in the chimney, by means of the improvised ladder of rope, had 
no sooner landed in the cellar, veiled in Stygian darkness, 
than he was fiercely assailed by the army of ravenous rats of 
immense proportions that had held undisputed possession of 
the death-looking place. The colonel had considerable difficulty 
in defending himself from the obstinate attacks of the rodents, 
who sprang upon his person, frequently tearing flesh from his 
unprotected neck and face, until those who followed succeeded 
in reaching his side, and taking part in the desperate struggle, 
aided him in driving the voracious animals away. 

It was almost a superhuman task to force a passage through 
the heavy foundation wall with the chisel, the only means for the 
purpose to be had for love or money, but this task having at 
length been accomplished, much remained to be done if the 
liberty these brave men passionately sought was to be secured. 

Fortunately, it was seldom, if ever, that any of the prison- 
guards had occasion to visit or explore the hidden depths of 
the dark and hideous cellar in which the colonel and his fellows 
were delving to secure freedom and liberty, hence the immunity 
felt by the diggers. The mountain of earth, removed by degrees 
in making this underground passage to the outer and brighter 
world — to liberty or death — was scattered among the filth and 
debris in the cellar. 

The tunnel having at last been finished, Rose and his fifteen 
close friends, early in the evening of February 9, 1864, lowered 
themselves into the cellar for the last time, and passing through 
the narrow, damp and airless aperture, emerged from the cir- 
cumscribed exit under the rickety shed on the canal bank, where, 
bidding each other farewell, the party separated, each following 
the bent of his own inclination, as had previously been agreed 
upon. When Aurora began to gild the following morn with 
bright and beautiful rays of promise, Colonel Rose was far 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 183 

down the York River Railroad, congratulating himself upon the 
fulfillment of his cherished plans. Barred from crossing the 
Chickahominy bridge, at all times strongly guarded, he plunged 
into adjacent swamps, dodged the enemy's pickets, and after 
many lesser adventures, fell into the hands of three Confederate 
soldiers, wearing blue uniforms, whom he mistook for friends. 
During the afternoon, when within sight of Richmond, he man- 
aged to give the slip to his captors, but before the sun went 
down behind the great pine woods through which he was labori- 
ously making his way, he was again captured, this time by a 
squad of cavalry that came suddenly upon him. Two hours 
after Colonel Rose was returned to Libby, where he remained 
in close confinement until July 8, when he was specially 
exchanged. 



DESPERATE BATTLE WITH AN OPHIDIAN. 

1DO not propose to write anything about the terrible suffer- 
ings endured by my comrades while confined at Anderson- 
ville, as the story is too well known to require repetition, but 
simply to narrate a snake story that had a fatal termination in 
the foul pen, ending in a bloody tragedy. 

Christian Huber, of Elizabeth, was among the unfortunate 
members of Company G captured at Drewry's Bluff, and was a 
passenger on the illy-provided train which conveyed six hundred 
unfortunates from Richmond to Georgia. 

Huber, after reaching the pen at Andersonville, made a bur- 
row to protect himself from sunshine and storm, and congratu- 
lated himself upon possessing what he considered a comfortable 
habitation. Despite his constant lack of food, from which all of 
his more than 30,000 wretched comrades suffered alike, Huber 
managed to keep in comparatively cheerful spirits. 

It was in the early part of August that Huber experienced 
great difficulty in obtaining sleep, so much so that on awaking, 
he told those about him that somebody or something annoyed 
him nightly. The fact was, Huber really suspected some of his 
companions with playing tricks upon him. 

It was just after daybreak on the morning of August 5 that 
Huber suddenly awoke in great distress of mind and body to 
find himself within the tightly embracing folds of an immense 
ophidian, which had, without awaking him, encircled his body, 
pinioning one arm, with painful force — so great, in fact, that he 



184 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

breathed only by the greatest effort. Hubert's first impulse was 
that some frenzied comrade, driven insane, as many of them 
were, by the horrors of their situation, had environed his throat 
with strong hands. A vise could hardly have been more effec- 
tive. Upon opening his eyes Huber saw the head of a large 
snake poised in great agitation directly over his face, swaying 
to and fro in angry mood, making hideous grimaces, its long- 
spear-shaped tongue working with lightning-like rapidity, and 
its glassy, basilisk eyes shining like orbs of fire. 

Huber, instantly realizing his perilous situation, used his 
free hand in seizing his snakeship by the neck, and by an almost 
superhuman effort, succeeded in gaining his feet, when a des- 
perate battle for the mastery took place. The snake, finding it- 
self in Huber's vise-like grip, struggled fiercely, now and then 
in its writhings and painful contortions, putting one or more 
coils about his body. The struggle and Huber's calls for help 
instantly brought nearby comrades to his assistance, but before 
they could do anything to aid him, Huber and the ophidian, in 
their battle for supremacy, trespassed within the dreaded space 
known as the "dead line," whereupon a drowsy sentinel on 
guard on the stockade overlooking that part of the pen, with 
visions of an emeute before his half-opened eyes, lowered his 
ever-ready rifle, took quick but deliberate aim, and fired — 
strange as it may appear, the bullet severing the head of the 
serpent and passing through the heart of the prisoner, robbed 
him of life. Huber never again breathed. 

The incident created intense excitement for a time, but was 
quickly forgotten, the starving men, apparently deserted by our 
government, having more important matters to distract their 
attention. 



STRANGE WOUNDS ON BATTLE FIELD. 

AMONG the Union volunteers who distinguished them- 
selves in the Civil War was Edward La Fuley, living in 
Elizabeth, with no shadow of peril on his face, however 
disfigured it may have been by a remorseless bullet which crashed 
through his jaw, tearing away several teeth and the major por- 
tion of his tongue. 

La Fuley, when the tocsin of war sounded that April morn 
in 1861, was a resident of New York State. Ardently desiring 
to serve his country in its great hour of need, although but a 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 185 

mere boy, he enlisted in the Eleventh New York Battery of Ar- 
tillery, which soon after became noted for its efficiency. 

A mere stripling, his intelligence, attention to duty, faith- 
fulness and extraordinary efficiency quickly won for him a place 
in the esteem of his officers and comrades, and he was selected 
as a gunner, for which important duty he soon gave remarkable 
evidence of capacity. La Fuley's brazen dog of war soon became 
a great pet with him as well as a terror to the enemy whenever 
its deep-toned voice sounded. La Fuley speedily became an 
expert shot, and on several occasions, notably at Gettysburg, did 
particularly fine and skilful work. From the start he greatly 
distinguished himself by superior marksmanship, and when any 
difficult shots were required, was invariably selected for the task. 

The Eleventh Battery took a prominent part in the three 
■days' fight at Gettysburg, in which the subject of my sketch 
received a ghastly wound from a Confederate sharpshooter in 
the "Devil's Den" that kept him in the hospital for long and 
dreary months, until tired of the doctors and medicines, and 
still weakened by his sufferings, he obtained consent to rejoin 
his command, and made his weary way back to the Army of 
the Potomac, which he reached in time to engage with it in the 
disastrous Mine Run affair, where he received a singular wound 
— one that came near ending his life, and deprived him of the 
power of articulation for several months thereafter. 

La Fuley, heartily glad to be again with his comrades, and 
rejoicing in his restoration to the command of his gun, was in 
the act of drawing a fine bead on a group of horsemen, one 
thousand yards away, when a big, rough, leaden bullet, fired by 
a Confederate marksman, crashed through his beardless face, 
passing into one cheek and out the other, carrying away several 
teeth and a large portion of his tongue. 

While feeling a sharp pain in his face, La Fuley experienced 
no other sensation, and did not fully realize the extent of his in- 
jury until a powder-begrimmed gunner at his side called atten- 
tion to it, by pointing to a stream of blood pouring down his 
neck upon his overcoat. Opening his mouth to reply to his 
companion, he found himself unable to speak, and while making 
a laborious attempt to do so, wondering what it all meant, he 
emitted a number of teeth, as well as a considerable part of his 
tongue, which the missile had severed. 

When La Fuley, now greatly troubled in mind, gazed 
upon the ground at his feet, and discovered his loss, he picked 
up the "unruly member" and carefully guarding it, ran to a field 



186 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

hospital in the rear, where he surprised the surgeons by his sin- 
gular exhibit, and an earnest request to put it back in his mouth 
where it rightly belonged. Some of the surgeons quit the bloody 
but humane task in which they were busily engaged, on learning 
La Fuley's remarkable request, and made an examination of 
the severed and apparently still quivering piece of his tongue, 
together with the part remaining in his mouth. They declared 
it quite impossible to perform the operation — to attach the parts. 

Perhaps I should explain that La Fuley, totally without 
power of articulation, conveyed his wishes to the surgeons by 
signs, a system upon which he had to rely for long months after- 
ward. For a time the doctors were unable to fathom his desire, 
and it was only when he seized a needle and thread, which one 
of the doctors held in his fingers, and pretended to run the steel 
through the dismembered part, that they comprehended his 
idea, and before the sun went down they had successfully accom- 
plished the difficult and hitherto unheard of task. 

La Fuley, in modestly telling of the great difficulties the 
surgeons had in splicing the piece that had been ruthlessly torn 
from his mouth, said he didn't mind the operation as much as 
the inconveniences he afterward suffered, in not being able to 
speak or hold conversation with those beside him. 

"You know," said he, "that I am not much of a talker at 
any time, but it wouldn't do for me to get excited in conversa- 
tion, as my tongue," while apparently all right, is apt to lose con- 
trol of itself and flop backward, as if trying to get down my 
throat, in which event I am speechless until I can bring the 
uncontrollable part back with my finger to its proper position, 
which I am frequently compelled to do." 

"Oh, yes," continued the gallant veteran, who still bears 
his sufferings and years quite well, "after my tongue healed I 
rejoined my battery, and remained in the service until my term 
of three years expired, when I returned home, the government 
refusing to accept my services for another period owing to my 
disabling wounds." 



While on the subject of remarkable wounds received in 
battle it may not be uninteresting for me to relate that very few 
people ever learned just how the gallant and ever-to-be-lamented 
Philip Kearny received his death wound at Chantilly. It was 
some time after the body of the chieftain had been brought into 
our lines, under a flag of truce, escorted by a picked body of 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 187 

Confederate cavalry, before our surgeons were able to ascertain 
where the deadly missile entered his body, a thorough and 
patient examination being necessary to unravel the mystery. 

It has always been known that General Kearny, on riding 
into the midst of a number of Confederate soldiers on picket, 
just at dusk, and seeing his imminent danger, suddenly wheeled 
his horse and, bending low over the faithful animal's neck, 
dashed away, followed by a shower of bullets, the most cruel one 
entering the rectum, passing the length of the body, leaving but 
a slight abrasion on the exterior, only distinguishable by the 
most rigid examination of the part. 



Captain Joseph Henry, of the Ninth New Jersey, was in- 
stantly killed at Roanoke Island, and yet no mark was discovered 
upon his uniform or person. The cannon ball which robbed him 
of life and a promising career of usefulness had previously 
severed both legs of Corporal John Lorence and one leg of 
Jonathan Burel, of Company K, and instantly killed Isaac V. D. 
Blackwell, of Company F, as well as knocking a rifle out of my 
hand and upsetting me in the water in which we were fighting 
at the moment. 



HOW SAWYER AND FLYNN ESCAPED GALLOWS. 

WHILE many thousands of Union soldiers ( ?) deserted 
their colors during the Civil War, and while several 
were sentenced to be shot for deserting their commands 
at critical moments, it remained for one of the "bravest of the 
brave," belonging to the superb First New Jersey Cavalry, to be 
sentenced to execution on a rude gallows for no other crime than 
doing his whole duty as a soldier and being an earnest and 
faithful defender of his flag. 

Among the most exciting, thrilling and pathetic incidents 
in the great war was the case of Captain Henry Washington 
Sawyer, of the First New Jersey Cavalry, a resident of Cape 
May County. Captain Sawyer, grievously wounded in the terrific 
hand-to-hand fight on the beautiful plain at Brandy Station, June 
9, 1863, fell into the hands of the enemy, and was removed as a 
prisoner to the notorious Libby prison, in Richmond. On the 
morning of July 6, a short month after his incarceration, and 



188 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

before he had fully recovered from a desperate wound in his 
head, Captain Sawyer and all officers of the same rank confined 
with him, were suddenly and peremptorily summoned to appear 
before the infamous "Dick" Turner, a Northern renegade who 
had been entrusted with the keepership of the prison. With his 
usual self-importance and great swagger, Turner said he had 
received an order from the Confederate war department to select 
by lot two captains to be executed immediately in retaliation 
for the hanging of two Confederate captains, captured within 
the Union lines while acting in the capacity of spies. 

The captains being formed about the keeper of the prison, 
a slip of brown paper with the name of each written upon it 
and carefully folded was deposited in a dirty soap box. This 
part of the sad ceremony having been accomplished, Turner in- 
formed the captains that as they might consider the task of 
drawing the "prizes" a delicate matter, they might select whom 
they pleased to make the drawings — the first two names taken 
from the box to decide who should be executed. 

Captain Sawyer, ever cool and calm, suggested, in obedience 
to this delicate feeling on the part of the prisonkeeper, that one 
of the chaplains perform the task, whereupon three clergymen, 
confined on an upper floor, were hastily summoned. Rev. Mr. 
Brown, of the Sixth Maryland (Union) Regiment, accepted the 
sad duty, and, amid death-like silence, the drawing for two gal- 
lant human lives commenced. The first name withdrawn from 
the fateful box was that of Captain Sawyer — the second, that of 
his friend, Captain John W. Flynn, of the Fifty-first Indiana 
Infantry. 

The Richmond Despatch, in its account of the affair, said : 
"When the names were read out, Sawyer heard it with no ap- 
parent emotion, remarking that as someone had to be chosen, it 
might as well be himself, as he could stand it as well as any 
other. Flynn was very white and greatly depressed." 

After hastily penning an eloquent letter to his wife, begging 
her to visit him, and giving minute directions how to proceed, 
Captain Sawyer, accompanied by Flynn, was escorted to a ver- 
min and rat-infested dungeon far under ground, closely guarded. 
They had occupied the fetid place, however, but a few minutes 
when "Dick" Turner, apparently with fiendish delight, appeared 
before the dungeon door, bearing a lighted lantern, and harshly 
announced to the two captains that they had but two hours to 
live — that they would be in another world ere the clock tolled 
the hour of twelve. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 189 

True enough ! They were shortly after manacled, placed in 
an old and rickety tobacco cart, to which was attached two oxen, 
and, strongly guarded, started down Mayo Street, toward a spot 
selected for the execution on the outskirts of the city. 

On the way the prisoners attracted the attention of a Roman 
Catholic bishop passing along the street, who inquired the nature 
of the sad procession. When Captain Flynn, a devout Catholic, 
told the good bishop of the fate awaiting himself and companion 
and declared he had no heart to "die without the rites of his 
church," the latter fervently exclaimed: "This will never do," 
and imploring the Confederate officer in charge of the detail to 
move slowly, declared he would hasten to see President Davis, 
who, he was sure, would grant a respite. The clergyman mounted 
a superb horse and was away as if on the wings of the wind. 
Meantime the procession reached a slight eminence upon which 
was a single stalwart tree. 

With but ten minutes intervening between the unhappy prison- 
ers and an ignominous death, with stout hempen cords about 
their necks, and the cart in which they were standing upright 
ready to move from under their feet, hurling them into eternity, 
they suddenly beheld coming from the city, in which direction 
they had steadily kept their eyes, a courier enveloped in clouds 
of flying dust, and a horse covered with foam. The priest had 
secured a reprieve for ten days. 

Upon receipt of Captain Sawyer's tender and fateful letter, 
Mrs. Sawyer, like a brave and true-hearted wife, hastened to lay 
the momentous matter before influential friends at her home, who 
advised her to lose no time in going to Washington, where they 
would aid her in appealing to President Lincoln. With several 
prominent men Mrs. Sawyer reached the National Capital late 
the following day, and proceeding to the White House, was 
admitted to an audience with the great man whose big heart 
ever went out to the sorrowing and the distressed. 

Upon reading Captain Sawyer's noble letter, the President, 
deeply affected, with great tears swimming in his sympathetic 
eyes, assured Mrs. Sawyer he would do all in his power to save 
her husband and his companion, and concluded the interview by 
bidding her call on the morrow to hear what his action in the 
premises might be. She left the executive chamber with a sor- 
rowing heart, but greatly lightened of its burden by the result of 
her interview with the great and good man. 

President Lincoln's letter to Colonel W. H. Ludlow, agent 
for the exchange of prisoners, saved the captain's lives. He 



190 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

threatened retaliation, naming General W. H. F. Lee, and an- 
other officer to be selected. The hanging never took place. 

Captain Sawyer, with whom I became well acquainted after 
the war, and with whom I have swapped stories of life in various 
Southern prison pens, lived but a few years after his return from 
the army, carrying with him to the tomb the seeds of insidious 
disease contracted in the service of his country, which he long, 
faithfully and ardently served. 



BURNING OF GOLDSBORO BRIDGE. 

THE feats of valor performed by soldiers whose names are 
unknown to fame find no place in the bulletin that recites 
briefly the triumphs of the victor or fall of the vanquished 
chieftain. History, which is mainly a record of the achievements 
of men of illustrious birth or whose positions gave them rare 
opportunities to attain distinction, is not always just in its award. 
True, its pages are illumined by narratives of splendid deeds 
wrought by individuals that occupied humble spheres, but com- 
paratively few of the brave acts and generous words of noble 
souls find a place, save in the memory of those who delight to 
treasure up glorious recollections. Every age produces heroes 
far more worthy of our regard than the titled personages whose 
services and crimes are cited by the historian. The War for the 
Union was fruitful in incidents entitled to our warmest admira- 
tion. 

I can cite many incidents of unparalleled bravery of enlisted 
men during the contest of 1861-1865, but will content myself with 
narrating a story of the burning of the covered wooden railroad 
bridge spanning the Neuse River at Goldsboro, N. C., in Decem- 
ber, 1862, by Privates Elias C. Winans and William Lemons, of 
the Ninth New Jersey, which elicited admiration from 30,000 
men who witnessed the perilous act. 

The expedition, in command of Major General John G. 
Foster (a captain of artillery in Fort Sumter when that historic 
pile was attacked in April, 1861), comprised some 30,000 men of 
the three arms of the service. This force, after a succession of 
battles at Southwest Creek, Kinston and Whitehall (where a 
Confederate iron-clad gunboat was totally consumed by fire), 
came within sight of the Neuse River at noon. The old wooden 
structure spanning that stream was defended by a corps just 
arrived from Lee's army, which had a day or two previously 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 191 

defeated General Burnside at Fredericksburg, including an iron- 
clad plaftorm car (monitor) mounting several guns. The latter 
was used in running up and down the railroad. 

General Heckman, satisfied that the bridge could not be 
captured or crossed, called for volunteers from the Ninth to 
burn it. So many offered themselves that it became necessary 
to make a selection, and in another minute the colonel supplied 
Winans and Lemons with fuses, and bade them "God speed" 
on their perilous mission. Captain James Stewart, Jr., subse- 
quently colonel of the Ninth and a brigadier general, was among 
the first to respond to the call for volunteers. I saw my two 
brave comrades depart, but had no expectation of seeing them 
return, neither having apparently one chance in a thousand 
from immunity from death. Running hastily, they succeeded in 
gaining the cover of the railroad bank, along which they has- 
tened in a stooping attitude toward the bridge, a quarter of a mile 
away on our front. The Confederates apparently did not see 
them until they had almost reached the haven of their desires, 
when it seemed as if all the fires of hell had been launched 
against them. A railroad monitor, stationed near the bridge 
on the opposite side of the river, had in the meantime opened a 
terrible fire, its missiles ploughing and tearing up the ground 
over which the two men were now necessarily slowly wending 
their difficult and dangerous way. The Confederate infantrymen 
on the left bank of the river poured volley after volley at Green 
and Winans, completely ignoring the presence of our skirmish- 
ers, who now kept up an unremitting fire to divert their attention. 
It appeared, at times, as if neither Winans or Lemons would be 
able to reach the bridge, so terrible was the fusilade. On, on, 
they ran, amid a shower of lead and iron hail, often being en- 
veloped in smoke and dust. Ten thousand men, foe and friends 
alike, saw the two brave and determined men in their every 
movement, and when, at last, they finally succeeded in gaining 
the much-coveted bridge, the Union army sent up a cheer which 
did more to madden the Confederates and rouse our spirits than 
anything I had ever witnessed in the army. It now looked very 
much as if the enemy would accomplish the object for which 
the Union commander was laboring; i. e., the destruction of the 
bridge, for the Confederate batteries completely riddled the 
structure, hoping, by this means, to deter the two Yankees from 
firing it "under their very nose." 

When Winans and Lemon entered the bridge they became 
lost to our sight, and when, after anxious waiting, we failed to 



192 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

see any evidence of their success, we gave them up for lost — none 
of us believing it possible for either of them to escape the dan- 
gers which surrounded them. I shall never forget my feelings 
on this occasion. Every eye was intently fixed on the southern 
end of the bridge. Had the two men, heretofore so miracuously 
preserved, been killed after reaching the object of so much solici- 
tude? What is that? Who is that emerging from the bridge? 
A clear glass shows that Winans is returning, having failed to 
accomplish the object for which so much blood had been shed. 
But no. He halts, waves his old blue cap toward us, then slides 
down the railroad embankment, crawls through a fence, enters 
the wood which borders the river's right bank, gathers a quantity 
of leaves and dry chips and slowly but cautiously returns to the 
bridge — the enemy increasing their fire meantime. Placing the 
newly gathered "fuel where it would do the most good" — the 
fuses having proven worthless — (as he afterward reported) he 
struck a match, ignited the same, and the bridge was on fire. A 
minute afterward a dense column of black smoke poured out of 
the structure, then tongues of red flame shot out into the air 
ascending heavenward, and the work of two humble members of 
the Union army was accomplished. 

Perhaps I should add that by this time several companies of 
the Ninth Regiment had been able to make their way to within a 
few yards of the bridge, where much execution was done, al- 
though the command suffered greatly from the enemy's wither- 
ing fire. Hastening from the burning bridge, the two heroes 
speedily rejoined their comrades, being warmly welcomed with 
cheers — their heroism being the theme around many camp-fires 
in after vears. 



THE FLYING HORSEMAN. 

A RECENT cloudburst in Kentucky, by which a small town 
was effaced and most of its inhabitants swept into eter- 
nity by a merciless flood, forcibly reminds me of a some- 
what similar occurrence in front of Petersburg during the sum- 
mer of 1864, when a citizen of Elizabeth at the present time, 
but then serving his country in the army, distinguished himself 
by an act of great daring, enabling him to save hundreds of fel- 
low-mortals from watery graves. The act performed by my 
comrade in arms on this occasion should be perpetuated in 
bronze — should be remembered by all the generations to come 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 193 

as one of the most unselfish and heroic of the great war, and 
be an object lesson to all who admire gallantry and intrepidity. 

It was on the afternoon of August 15, 1864, that the Eigh- 
teenth Army Corps, occupying a long line of earthworks in close 
proximity to the enemy, fronting Petersburg, with one flank rest- 
ing on the Appomattox River, was thrown into a state of intense 
excitement, as well as terror, by a cloudburst, which almost 
instantly submerged the camps and poured down a wide and deep 
ravine in the rear with all the force and power of an enraged and 
ungovernable river. 

It had been intensely hot for several days, causing great 
discomfort to the men, but there was nothing at midday to indi- 
cate that there would be any change in the almost stifling atmos- 
phere. Suddenly, about 2 o'clock, a great, black, ominous- 
looking cloud appeared directly over Petersburg and traveled 
toward our line, close to the earth, with lightning-like speed. 
All in that section heard its awful rush and roar. The accom- 
panying winds set up a mournful, howling shrieking as if under 
the influence of a powerful demon. The air was instantly filled 
with clouds of blinding dust and flying tents of canvas torn 
away from meagre fastenings. Consternation was depicted on 
the faces of all, owing to the horrors of the tornado. 

In a moment after it appeared as if the gates above had 
been opened, so great was the volume of water that fell deluging 
the earth, swamping everything. The men from the North de- 
clared they had not before seen anything like it, and with 
blanched faces all sought safety in the open and on the highest 
ground to be conveniently reached. 

The trenches and other excavations occupied by the men 
for safety from the enemy's missiles were so quickly inundated 
that many had all they could do to effect their escape, leaving 
haversacks, blankets, etc., behind in their wild flight. While it 
was dangerous on the plain, or more level part of the ground, 
it was at the rear, in the deep and wide ravine, where a number 
of regiments were encamped, that the most damage was incurred 
by the Union forces. Regiments, whose shelter tents were 
pitched upon either hillside, had an exciting time in saving their 
accoutrements from being washed into the bottom, down which 
a fearful torrent of foaming water was rushing with irresistible 
force to swell the usually placid Appomattox a mile or so below. 

Sutlers and wagoners, together with a negro regiment or 
two, occupying the low land, were in desperate straits, having 
all they could do to escape the rushing flood without seeking to 



194 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

save property. In their wild and tumultuous flight up the hill- 
side they carried nothing with them, owing to besetting dangers. 
A hundred and more men, unable to evade the flood, were car- 
ried away by the torrent and drowned. Many of the bodies were 
never recovered. Several hundred horses, tethered in the ravine, 
that could not break from their fastenings, met a similar fate. 

Portable houses, used by sutlers and various departments 
of the army, wagons, tents, furniture, barrels of whisky and 
meats, boxes of crackers, etc., went whirling along in the resist- 
less flood. The new-made river was two hundred feet wide 
and nine or ten feet deep. 

Charles H. Miller, at that time a member of the 139th New 
York Volunteers, but on detached service as chief head clerk of 
the commissary department of the Third Brigade, Third Divi- 
sion, 18th Army Corps, had a remarkably narrow escape from 
perishing in this flood. He was riding down the ravine on a 
spirited horse, on his way to headquarters, when he heard alarm- 
ing cries and fierce shouts, and, turning, saw soldiers wildly 
fleeing. His first impression was that the army was retreating, 
but hearing no firing and seeing no movement on the part of 
the enemy, he halted to investigate. He stopped but an instant, 
however, as he beheld, perhaps half a mile away, a huge wall of 
water, rushing like an avalanche toward him. The breath nearly 
left his body when he realized the imminence of his danger, as 
well as that of hundreds in the ravine below him. Sinking his 
spurs deep into the flanks of the noble animal he bestrode, and 
tearing away like the wind, he yelled with all the strength of his 
lungs as he went dashing down that narrow-rimmed valley of the 
•shadow of death, by this means winning the admiration of thou- 
sands and saving numerous lives. Men, resting from fatigue 
under shelter tents, seeing the "flying horseman," as he was 
called, dashing along at a furious speed, with sparks flying from 
the ironclad hoofs of the horse, peered out from their canvas 
habitations with frightened faces, as they heard the fearful and 
alarming cries ; but above all the gallant horseman's voice 
shrilled in that lowland, as with spurs dripping red, foam and 
blood blowing from the horse's nostrils, and hatless and white, 
he cried as he rode on his humane errand : 

"Fly! fly! Run for life! Run! run! run!' 

And still on and on the apparently wild voice of my brave 
comrade rang down that death-coursing little valley, piercing 
every tent and nook with its awful message, as on he dashed 
with great speed along a headlong course, until the fiercely pur- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 195 

suing- waters seemed about to enfold him and his faithful charger 
and entomb both in the vortex, when, finding his self-imposed 
task finished, having nearly reached the end of the camp, he 
deftly guided his jaded, panting animal from impending death 
up the steep hillside to the summit of safety. 

The heroism displayed by Mr. Miller was the theme round 
many a campfire and bivouac. 



HOW SCOTT WON FIRST MEDAL. 

AMONG the multitude of gallant men who sprang to arms 
in 1861, at the call of the nation's Chief Magistrate, when 
the starry flag that had waved over Sumter's heroic gar- 
rison was stricken down, was Julian Scott, a native of Vermont, 
but for many years after the war a resident of Plainfield, N. J., 
who at the age of 15 years left school to join his country's de- 
fenders. Enlisting in the Third Vermont infantry as a drummer, 
his fragile form being considered too delicate to bear the burden 
of a heavy rifle and accompanying accoutrements, and to with- 
stand the fatigues incident to the life of an armed soldier, Julian 
Scott found himself, with his regiment, encamped in the swamps 
on the Virginia peninsula early in the spring of 1862. 

It was on the morning of April 16 that the afterward famous 
Vermont brigade- — Third, Fourth, Fifth and Sixth regiments — 
composed of sterling Green Mountain boys, whose fathers had 
fought and suffered in establishing the flag, was ordered to make 
an attack on a strong fortification masked in a forest near 
Lee's Mills, or Burnt Chimneys, on the right bank of Warwick 
River, a beautiful and meandering stream of no mean width or 
force. 

When the command reached the bank of the river, under 
cover of an effective fire from one of our light batteries, four 
companies of the Third Regiment, to one of which young Scott 
was attached as a musician, promptly dashed into the flood, 
and despite a desperate resistance on the part of the thoroughly 
aroused enemy, hidden among trees and a thick underbrush on 
the opposite side, effected a crossing, not, however, without sus- 
taining considerable loss and getting a thorough wetting. The 
water was breast high, and ruined, as was discovered when too 
late, the paper cartridges carried in leather boxes. 

The companies which thus gained the point aimed at, to 
clear a way for the brigade that had been ordered to closely fol- 



196 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

low, but which for some unexplained reason failed to do so, 
pluckily and impetuously assailed the Confederate position, driv- 
ing the enemy from the works at the point of the bayonet, and 
pursued the fleeing Confederates some distance, until finding 
themselves unsupported and with worthless ammunition, owing 
to the soaking it had undergone during the crossing, and a large 
force of the enemy advancing upon them, the decimated force 
was obliged to retire. The only defense it could make in this 
extremity was with the bayonet, and when this fact was learned 
by the closely pursuing Confederates, they poured destructive 
volleys into the disordered ranks. 

Imagine the horror of the little Vermont band on reaching 
the ford to find, instead of the placid stream they had waded an 
hour previously, a mighty and resistless flood of rushing waters, 
into which it was foolhardy to enter. 

While the four companies, apparently left to their fate, had 
accomplished more than the task assigned to them, the Confeder- 
ates had meantime opened the floodgates at the mills, a short 
distance above, thus allowing the confined waters to escape, en- 
veloping the invaders in a dangerous trap, death or prison pen 
seemingly the only alternatives. Escape was impossible. A 
terrible situation confronted them. 

Driven to absolute desperation by their inability to defend 
themselves for want of ammunition, and seeing no hopes of res- 
cue, the gallant Vermonters turned to each other in dismay. 
Not a ray of encouragement appeared to cheer the unfortunate 
soldiers who thus found themselves in a perilous situation from 
which extrication seemed impossible. Meanwhile, in the midst 
of the wild excitement, many of the men leaped from the high 
bank into the foaming and rushing waters, hoping thereby to 
gain safety on the other shore, which, however, many were 
destined never to reach. Others sought shelter from the storm 
of bullets pouring upon them under the bank upon which they 
stood, a poor protection, as they subsequently found it. This 
rendered the confusion more terrible. 

But it is in the midst of the most appalling dangers, how- 
ever, that the character of the American soldier reveals itself, 
and never did one show himself greater in heroism than Drum- 
mer Julian Scott in the deplorable misfortunes which beset his 
command on this fatal day. What devotion and presence of 
mind in the midst of the imminent and manifold dangers was 
manifested by this intrepid youth as he boldly and fearlessly 
plunged into the seething flood amid a shower of leaden missiles 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 197 

and struck through the disturbed current for the opposite bank, 
stopping when midway to rescue a wounded comrade who was 
shot through the neck while swimming at his side ! This gallant 
and unselfish act, witnessed by those on either shore, elicited the 
heartiest cheers. 

Carrying the suffering soldier to a place of comparative 
safety, Julian Scott, insensible of the dangers surrounding him, 
again made his way to the river's edge and, with no thought of 
the peril attending the movement, rescued another and another 
of his drowning fellows until those thus saved by his efforts 
numbered eleven. 

Then, at last, faint and nearly exhausted and suffering in- 
tensely from a ghastly wound on his head, my friend and com- 
panion, against the remonstrances of those standing about him, 
who felt he had already done enough and was unfit to further 
jeopardize his life, again sprang into the raging torrent to rescue 
a young man bearing his name, who, desperately wounded, had 
finally relinquished his struggles. 

This young man, not long before, had been saved from an 
awful and ignominious death by the personal intervention of 
President Lincoln. Shortly after enlisting, this Scott, in no way 
related to Julian, found asleep on post in camp, had been 
tried, convicted and sentenced to death, and a little later the 
Army of the Potomac was drawn up on the plain near Centerville 
to witness the execution of the beardless youth. The last scene 
in that day's exciting drama was the hurried approach of a coach 
and four, escorted by a small force of cavalry, enveloped in 
clouds of blinding dust, and the halting of the party on the 
ground as the command "Ready!" given by the lieutenant in 
charge of the firing squad, echoed over the silent field. From 
the dust-covered vehicle instantly emerged the tall form of Abra- 
ham Lincoln, who promptly ordered the bandage to be removed 
from the prisoner's eyes, the thongs which bound his hands and 
legs to be severed, and the young man to be liberated and re- 
stored to duty. This scene, especially as the prisoner rose from 
the rude wooden coffin upon which he had been sitting, com- 
placently waiting his transfer to another and brighter world, 
profoundly affected the armed host collected to witness it as an 
object lesson. Despite the efforts of the officers, the pent-up 
feelings of that mighty throng gave way, and tumultuous cheers 
broke upon the stillness, echoing from corps to corps, making 
an occasion never to be forgotten by the witnesses. 

This Scott, thus preserved from a disgraceful death, has 



198 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

been immortalized by Janvier in his eloquent and pathetic poem, 
"The Sleeping Sentinel," which every young, as well as old 
American, should read and study. Terribly wounded, he was 
rescued from a watery grave by Julian Scott, amid the plaudits 
of the Vermont brigade, and tenderly placed on the bank among 
his comrades, but only to breathe his last a few moments after, 
not, however, without blessing the noble and self-sacrificing 
drummer boy, whose hand, as life ebbed away, he grasped with 
gratitude, his final words being "God bless the President !" who 
had mercifully preserved him from a dishonorable death and his 
aged parents from everlasting dishonor. 

For the bravery displayed by Julian Scott at the catastrophe 
on Warwick River that April day in 1862, he was presented by 
Congress with the first medal of honor struck in the Civil War, 
a distinction he richly merited. 

After life's fitful fever, Julian Scott sleeps tranquilly. The 
turf in the beautiful cemetery at Plainfield glimmers with a lovely 
emerald and its violets hold amid their bloom a holy incense in 
the mound covering his mortality. A more abiding honor than 
that of storied urn consecrates it. 



EXCITING INCIDENT AT GETTYSBURG. 

THE recent nauseating pose of a so-called "society woman" 
— one of New York's "smart set" — at an entertainment, 
with a hideous snake encircled about her body, neck and 
arms, sending cold chills along the spinal cords of the spectators, 
recalls to my mind a thrilling adventure Sergeant William 
Eckerson, for many years the efficient overseer of the poor in 
this city, had on the second night of the battle of Gettysburg 
with a deadly ophidian of the largest size on its native heath. 

Sergeant Eckerson, than whom the Army of the Potomac, to 
which he belonged for nearly four years, never had a braver 
representative, was a member of the Fourth Excelsior (73d New 
York) Regiment. Although but a mere lad, a delicate stripling, 
he enlisted in that command and participated with it in all the 
battles in which it engaged. 

I shall not here tell of the forced and fatiguing march, 
through clouds of stifling dust, his command made from Taney- 
town, in Maryland, all that terribly hot first day of July, 1863, 
and far into the sultry night, only halting as it rushed into the 
front line of the almost exhausted and disheartened Unionists on 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 199 

the left of Cemetery Hill, to confront Longstreet's magnificent 
veterans, old-time antagonists of the Army of Northern Vir- 
ginia, but merely relate an extraordinary incident that has ever 
been considered of thrilling interest to those familiar with the 
strange circumstance. 

It was on the afternoon of the second day that the five regi- 
ments of the Excelsior Brigade lost 778 officers and men in 
killed and wounded, nearly one-half it numbered on reaching 
the field. As the shades of night were falling, when it was hoped 
there would be a cessation of the bloody work in which 200,000 
of the bravest men on earth had been remorselessly engaged 
throughout the previous forty-eight hours, Longstreet made a 
desperate charge to gain possession of the hill firmly held by our 
thin line of blue, and succeeded in forcing it back some distance, 
capturing three field pieces, which had greatly annoyed the Con- 
federates. This so enraged Colonel Brewster, commanding the 
brigade, that he called for volunteers to advance and retake the 
trophies. Sergeant Eckerson was one of these volunteers. The 
guns were quickly recaptured, and with them the tattered colors 
and a major and some fifty men of the Eighth Florida Regiment. 
In the fierce hand-to-hand struggle which my comrade had in 
attempting to wrest the Florida flag from its plucky bearer, he 
was knocked down with the butt-end of a rifle, shot in two places 
in the lower part of his body, and left for dead beside one of the 
big boulders deposited on the ridge in the long ago by glaciers 
which came down from the frozen north, only to find lodgment 
and disintegration in that sunny vale, familiarly known as the 
"Devil's Den." 

Helpless and racked by incessant and excruciating pains, 
weakened by the loss of blood from ghastly wounds, half- 
famished and nearly crazed for the want of water, nothing could 
equal the anguish that absorbed the distressed mind of my com- 
rade as he lay prostrate upon his back on the hard and stony 
ground all through that seemingly interminable night, with 
nerves paralyzed, unable to move hand or foot, listening, as he 
was compelled to do, to the dreadful groans and agonizing cries 
of the wounded surrounding him. Overpowered with intense 
pains, as well as a sense of terror, he flattered himself that sleep, 
if it could be obtained, would release him from the frightful 
recollections which crowded upon him, and all the horrors of 
the day again passed in review before his disordered mind. His 
wearied senses at last sank into repose, but often in the stillness 
of the night he was ruthlessly startled by the report of cannon, 



200 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

which, passing across the fields and over the multitudinous hills, 
sounded in a peculiarly mournful and horrible manner. These 
unexpected sounds, repeated by the echoes of the valley, which 
till then had only resounded with the husbandman's call and the 
warbling- of birds, were lengthened into dismal reverberations, 
and often when his harassed nerves were sinking into calm and 
refreshing repose, so sorely needed by him, he was roused, fear- 
ful that the bewildered line of gray, but a few rods away, was 
again about to advance against the shattered line of blue. 

It was only when the burning rays of that July sun were 
disseminated over and among the grand old hills on the morn- 
ing of that eventful day in which Pickett's immortals made a des- 
perate but vain attempt to break through three Union lines of 
battle, that Sergeant Eckerson, greatly weakened by the ebbing 
of his life's blood, which all through the long night had poured 
from awful wounds, chilled to the very marrow by exposure to 
the night air, with no covering save the blue canopy above, and 
who had foully dreamed of never again seeing the light of 
another day, resuscitated by the pitiless heat, opened his weary 
eyes, only to be stricken almost senseless with horror, on behold- 
ing coiled upon his breast (much less capacious than at a later 
period of his life, when it measured something less than one 
hundred inches), a rattlesnake of the largest and most formid- 
able species, whose hideous and fearful head, with open, gaping 
mouth, exposing threatening fangs, from which darted, with 
lightning rapidity, a long, forked tongue, emitting a vile, sicken- 
ing odor, and two basilisk eyes, which he momentarily thought 
were a reflection from his own eye-balls, gleaming terribly before 
him. As he thus lay prostrate and helpless, he feared the pulsa- 
tions of his heart, to him sounding like trip-hammers, produced 
by the rapid coursing of his blood, would incite the reptile to 
deliver the fatal blow, which he knew it was ever ready to do. A 
spring of cold sweat trickled down his face and covered his body. 
Profound horror and the fantasies of his awakening, combined 
with the peculiar situation in which he found himself, froze his 
heart, turning it into marble. He did not dare permit himself to 
make the slightest movement of hand or body. He dreamed of 
home, and the minutest incidents of his life passed in instantane- 
ous review before his agonized mind. Frightful despair over- 
whelmed his very soul, and all courage fled. 

In this supreme moment of intense and bitter agony, the 
imperilled soldier instinctively closed his eyes, utterly abandon- 
ing all hope of rescue, and mentally appealed to his Creator, to 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 201 

whom alone, like all those in awful peril, he besought preserva- 
tion. Who can picture his despair at this horrible dis- 
covery ? Who can tell of his sense of feeling-, in thus finding him- 
self in the coils of a monster ophidian, whom the slightest move- 
ment on his part would incite to fatal action? How long my 
comrade thus lay I may not tell. However disposed or able, he 
abstained from making the slightest movement, fully aware of 
danger in exciting the reptile. His weakened condition no way 
qualified him for any kind of a contest with the monster, which 
could not fail to be unequal and fatal to him in its termination. 

In those moments of awful agony, during which he lived a 
thousand years, Sergeant Eckerson, to whom all hope for rescue 
seemed gone, and whose nerves were strung to the utmost ten- 
sion, was startled by the discharge of a rifle, a few feet away, and 
the sudden and altogether unlooked-for appearance of a sol- 
dier, who, happening along in that valley of the shadow of 
death, fortunately saw the snake coiled upon what he supposed to 
be the body of a dead soldier. This inference was perfectly 
natural under the circumstances. 

The shot that thus preserved the life of Sergeant Eckerson 
for further usefulness to his country had been unerring — the big 
Minnie bullet had completely severed the head of the reptile. 
While the soldier, thus providentially sent to save the life of my 
comrade, was admiring and removing the still wriggling snake 
from the prostrate form of the sergeant, to whom he had given 
no heed, believing him to be dead, he was greatly surprised to 
hear him speak. Kneeling beside the sergeant, whose weak 
voice sounded as if from a tomb, the new-comer speedily satis- 
fied himself that life was not extinct, and calling some soldiers 
who were in the vicinity gathering the dead and wounded, my 
comrade was placed on a stretcher, and tenderly carried to a field 
hospital, from which, after his wounds had been dressed, he was 
with others conveyed in an improvised ambulance, a farmer's 
wagon, to the general hospital at Baltimore, where he hovered 
between life and death for many long months, and at length 
recovering, was offered his discharge from the service, but with 
a grim determination to remain until the last shot was fired, he 
refused to return home, and was attached to the Veteran Reserve 
Corps, in which he did duty till late in 1865. 



202 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE AT ANDERSONVILLE. 

COMPARATIVELY few veterans of the Civil War who* 
were interested witnesses of the strangest moral, if not 
strictly legal execution of six of the foulest and vilest 
men confined within the circumscribed limits of that "hell" in 
Georgia, known since 1864 as Confederate "Camp Sumter," at 
Andersonville, concerning which, while much has been said by 
the unfortunate occupants of that fetid pen, but little has ever 
found its way into print, are living to-day. 

It must not be supposed for an instant that all who wore the 
blue during the Civil War were either brave, noble or honest, or 
that all those captured in battle and otherwise, many purposely, 
possessed chivalric spirit, or were guided by that sympathy 
which the common bonds of distress and misery would naturally 
excite under such untoward circumstances. On the contrary, 
the pen at Andersonville, during June, 1864, when more than 
30,000 human beings, Union prisoners of war, were huddled 
together within the enclosure like swine, contained many des- 
perate characters — no less than a horde of robbers and mur- 
derers, perfectly indifferent to any code of morals or chivalry, 
who delighted nightly under the cover of darkness, in the fullest 
enjoyment of plundering and cruelly murdering unsuspecting 
"comrades." 

While excess of misery and wretchedness debases human 
nature, it could be no excuse for the brutes, who, lost to every 
sense of honor, duty and manhood, were stained with the most 
revolting crimes, committed upon defenceless and unsuspecting 
comrades ( !), and it was only when forbearance ceased to be a 
virtue and despair had taken possession of the souls of the 
bravest hearted, who only thought to save their wretched exist- 
ence, owing to the constantly increasing number of heinous 
crimes committed by the more sordid and unreasoning prisoners, 
by friends to whom honor and duty had ever been unknown, 
that heroic measures of defence first suggested themselves, and 
an appeal to the Confederate prison-keeper determined upon. 

This cankerous state of affairs finally ended in the formation 
of what became known as a "Vigilance Committee," very much 
on the western style of many years ago. This self-constituted 
organization, composed of honest men, determined to take the 
law into its own hands for the law's sake, and mete out swift and 
terrible justice to the guilty ones, in the event of a declination 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 203 

of the prison commandant to interpose in behalf of law and order 
and the security of those committed to his care. 

When the chairman of the delegation, a sergeant, early in 
June, formally and eloquently reported a long list of heinous 
crimes committed by the "bounty jumpers" and "coffee-coolers" 
of the Union army, whom fate had thus imprisoned, General 
Winder, the commandant, who never commiserated with the 
unfortunates, nor sought to relieve their sufferings or ameliorate 
their wretched and forlorn condition, gave full authority to arrest 
and try the murderers by court-martial, and if found guilty, hang 
them. This proceeding was immediately taken, and on the 
Fourth of July six of the ringleaders were executed on a rude 
scaffold within the prison enclosure, all the prisoners able to 
raise their eyes in the direction, and several thousand Confederate 
soldiers, guarding the pen, witnessing the singular as well as 
awful spectacle. While the immense assemblage, with deathlike 
stillness, was solemnly impressed by the scene of repulsive hor- 
ror, and Catholic priests, noted for their goodnesses to the 
prisoners whom they daily visited, uttered words of Christian 
consolation to the six wretched culprits, standing, as it were, on 
the brink of eternity, with stout hempen ropes dangling about 
their necks, the fiends who had long terrorized the camp, in- 
dulged in hilarity, bitterly cursed their fellows, and uttered male- 
dictions against a government they had often sworn to defend, 
after receiving large sums of money in the shape of "bounty" 
from patriotic citizens who preferred remaining at home to jeo- 
pardizing their precious forms on the battle-field, and who were 
entirely willing that any one else should take the chances, no 
matter how disreputable in character or cowardly in spirit. 

These wretches had steeled their hearts against every virtue, 
committed every crime in the calendar, and now, in their last mo- 
ments in a world that had been entirely too good for them, they 
reviled everybody and everything about them. After they had 
been launched into an unknown world and their inanimate bodies 
had become stiff and cold, the camp of misery seemed relieved 
of an appalling incubus, and was all the brighter and happier 
despite surrounding gloom and wretchedness, for the vindication 
of law and justice, and the expiation of foul wrongs committed 
on the innocent and unwary by the execution of the lawless. 
The retribution which thus overtook these criminals ended the 
murderous raids that had been so dreadful and frequent. 

And now the "Georgia Daughters of the Southern Con- 
federacy," apparently having no worthier object of esteem, are 



204 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

about to erect in a prominent spot at Andersonville a shaft to 
the memory of the infamous Henry Wirz, a native of Switzer- 
land, keeper of the pen, who for his inhuman cruelties to the 
hepless unfortunates committed to his tender mercies, was tried 
by the United States Government, found guilty, and hung, in 
expiation of his numerous offences against common decency and 
the rules of civilized warfare. It is lamentable that Georgia 
women can find none among those who bravely served that com- 
monwealth on fields of battle more worthy of such a tribute. 
Ne vile fano. 



SAD FATE OF JERSEY SOLDIERS. 

MANY soldiers were unhappy witnesses of one of the most 
appalling and mournful spectacles of the Civil War when 
thirty-three officers and enlisted men belonging to Com- 
panies A, B, C and L, of the Twenty-seventh New Jersey Volun- 
teers, out of a total of fifty on board a flat-boat, while crossing 
the Cumberland River, in Kentucky, May 6, 1863, were drowned 
in the unruly flood by the upsetting of the unwieldy craft, in 
which they were transporting themselves across the swift-flowing 
stream. 

Sergeant Isaac S. Connett, who belonged to Company F 
of the Twenty-seventh, and was a spectator of the awful catas- 
trophe, in narrating the story of the sad affair to the Veteran 
Zouaves the other evening, said : 

"Our regiment, with three others and a battery of light artil- 
lery, after a raid in the latter part of April, 1863, and a pretty 
stiff fight at Monticello, Kentucky, on our return, reached Sti- 
gold's Ferry, on the Cumberland River, where we expected to 
find small boats in which to cross the river, but instead discov- 
ered two large, open flat-boats, whose only means of propulsion 
were by means of heavy rope cables, attached to trees and 
stretched from shore to shore, worked hand over hand by human 
power. 

"The Second Tennessee and 104th Ohio Regiments, a por- 
tion of the battery and eight companies of the Twenty-seventh, 
had successfully effected a crossing in the two boats, when the 
remainder of the artillery embarked in the larger flat, and three 
companies of our regiment, in the smaller boat, started to cross. 
All were in joyous spirits, as the term for which we had enlisted 
was on the eve of expiration, and our hearts rejoiced at the early 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 205 

prospect of reaching home. We had been kept busy since join- 
ing Burnside's Ninth Corps, just previous to his attack on Fred- 
ericksburg in December, 1862, and after chasing Longstreet from 
Suffolk, accompanied Burnside to Kentucky, to clear that coun- 
try of infesting bands of guerrillas. 

"Most of those who had already crossed the river and lined 
the high bank to witness the movements of the two boats were 
giving exuberance to their feelings by indulging in patriotic 
songs, little dreaming of the terrible calamity that was so soon to 
overtake the voyagers, throw the entire command into a 
state of the wildest excitement, and fill all hearts with the deepest 
sorrow. 

"Perhaps I ought to explain that the flatboats were pulled 
across the stream, which had a current of six miles an hour, by 
four men, standing in the bow of each craft, who in its manipula- 
tion passed one hand over another on the rope. They had been 
cautioned not to loosen the grasp of one hand until the other 
had firmly grasped the cable. 

"When the flat containing the fifty men of our regiment 
had reached the middle of the river, the men who manned the 
cable suddenly and -unaccountably released their hold, and the 
lumbering craft swinging instantly around, with its broadside to 
the rapid current, drifted swiftly down the stream toward the 
larger and lower boat in which the artillery had taken passage. 

"When those of us on shore realized the situation of our 
comrades in the ungovernable boat as extremely perilous, all 
gaiety was instinctively hushed, and brave men held their breath 
lest the dangers of the imperilled be increased. Had the men in 
charge of the rope maintained their composure and raised the 
lower rope over their heads, enabling the craft to drift under- 
neath, danger might have been averted, but many of the men 
became instantly excited, and as the flat neared the lower rope, 
they leaped up and attempted to seize it, hoping thereby to stay 
the progress of their craft. 

"This sudden movement caused the boat to careen, fill with 
water and precipitate the passengers into the flood. It was a 
moment fraught with the utmost peril, and the scene that fol- 
lowed beggars description. I never before, nor since, saw such 
an exciting, painful and heart-rending spectacle, nor heard 
wilder, more agonizing cries, nor may T ever again have my 
soul wrenched by the sight of such a horror. The wild shrieks 
on land, as well as in the engulfing waters, which at this instant 
arose, still ring in my ears. Strong, brave-hearted men, inured 



206 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

to dangers, wrung their hands in passionate grief as they stood 
helplessly by and saw their comrades, one after another, disappear 
under the cruel waters, utterly unable to render the slightest 
assistance. 

"The men, struggling in the stream, heavily laden with 
accoutrements, overcoats and blankets, were unable to swim, 
even though they understood the natatory art, while their perils 
were increased by many in their wild efforts to escape a watery 
grave, instinctively grasping their comrades for support, thus 
carrying down supporters and supported. 

"Those of us on shore who were compelled to behold the 
sad and sickening scene, were utterly powerless to render aid to 
our drowning companions. No means were at hand to reach any 
who were struggling fiercely in the waters, which finally en- 
tombed thirty-three out of the fifty gallant fellows who had em- 
barked. Nineteen of those who thus miserably perished, be- 
longing to Company L, were from Morris County. Among 
those who that day in that manner laid their lives upon their 
country's altar, were Captain John T. Alexander of Company B, 
and his first sergeant, Albert D. Wiggons, of Morris County. 

"It was only after the waters had closed over the mortality 
of my comrades and resumed their wonted calmness, that with 
sorrowful and meditative hearts, late that beautiful afternoon in 
May, we took up our line of march for camp at Somerset. Some 
few of the bodies were subsequently recovered, but most of them 
never found an earthly resting place, their bodies finally being 
buried in the depths of unknown seas. 

"My brave companions thus died, not as they could have 
wished, in the red heat of battle, but none the less they sacrificed 
themselves for the Nation's cause and left a martyr's heritage to 
all who love our starry banner and cherish the priceless institu- 
tions bequeathed by our forefathers, and preserved by the valor 
of the volunteer army of 1861-1865. 

"To-day, boys, the sun shines clear in the woods, hills and 
rivers of old Kentucky, where I, with a thousand other Jersey- 
men, during the war, passed pleasant as well as saddened days, 
and the beautiful blue-grass region, through which the Zouaves 
toured in 1890, en route to New Orleans, now a scene of peace 
and plenty, is as lovely as ever, few, if any, of the industrious 
and quiet denizens of the charming valley having recollection of 
the appalling horror myself and thousands of comrades witnessed 
there in those troublous times nearly half a century ago." 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 207 



GALLANT UNION SCOUT. 

CAPTAIN EDWARD S. E. NEWBURY, residing in 
Elizabeth, although born in North Carolina, served in 
the Third New Jersey Volunteers during the Civil War, 
and distinguished himself on many occasions. Appointed a 
scout by General Philip Kearny, Newbury had his first thrilling 
adventure on the night of November 4, 1861, when, accompanied 
by Corporal Thomas P. Edwards, of his company, he left the 
monotonous camp of the Jersey brigade near Alexandria, and 
keeping well within the deep shadows of the woods, reached 
the house of D. Fitzhugh, a wealthy planter, who, with his num- 
erous family, a day or two previously, had deserted the home- 
stead in the hope of seeking safety elsewhere. Learning from 
an aged negress who was nursing her son, in the last stages of 
consumption, in a nearby cabin, that Mas'r Fitzhugh and some 
gentlemen would arrive shortly, the two scouts, in great glee at 
the information, secreted themselves in the garden, behind a 
heavy row of boxwood, taking with them from the mansion a 
feather bed, some handsome woollen blankets, a small tin cup 
and a few trinkets as souvenirs. Wrapping themselves with the 
heavy and comfortable bed clothes, the intrepid scouts slept 
serenely until midnight, when their quick ears detected the 
sound of heavy hoof beats over the frozen road leading from 
the highway to the house, before which five men dismounted. 
Leaving one of their number to care for the animals, the others 
entered the mansion and kindled a fire in the large open fire- 
place, the reflection of the blaze illumining the large apartment 
in which they gathered. 

Newbury and Edwards, feeling they could gain more infor- 
mation and be in a better position for defense by occupying the 
kitchen, constructed of logs, cautiously made their way thither, 
but the movement was evidently noticed by the man who had 
been left to care for the horses. Edwards, revolver in hand, sta- 
tioned himself at the front door of the kitchen, Newbury taking 
post at the rear door. By a somewhat dim reflection of the light 
from the house, Edwards, a moment after, saw a man approach- 
ing his post, and quietly gave a signal of danger to Newbury. 
In another moment the fellow appeared at the door and peered 
anxiously within. Edwards could have dropped him in his 
tracks, but as the object of the scouts was to procure intelli- 
gence that would be of value to General Kearny, he refrained, 



208 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

great as was the temptation, from taking the desperate initiative 
and robbing the inquisitive southerner of life. But Edwards, 
the next instant, paid dearly for his forbearance, as the man who 
thus boldly confronted him discharged his weapon point blank 
at his breast and fled, sounding an alarm, which brought his 
four companions from the house on a run. The ball from the 
Confederate's pistol entered Edwards' arm above the elbow, 
coming out six inches above, and then, strange as it may seem, 
again entered his body by way of the back, and found a lodg- 
ment against the spinal column, thus causing a double wound, 
and of the most serious and painful nature, as it afterwards 
developed to the grief of both scouts. 

Although desperately injured, Edwards, believing his cap- 
ture imminent, rushed from the kitchen and disappeared in the 
Stygian darkness, leaving Newbury to whatever fate might be 
in store for him. The alarm thus created, as I have stated, 
brought the four men from the mansion, and as they succes- 
sively emerged therefrom, Newbury opened fire from carbine 
and revolver, winging one of the fugitives, who insisted that the 
house was filled with Yankees. Mounting in great haste, the 
five men galloped rapidly away. 

Fearing the Confederates would speedily return with in- 
creased numbers, Newbury evacuated the kitchen, and made his 
way to the gate opening into the highway, where he took posi- 
tion and lay in wait for the return of the discomfitted party, 
should it have the temerity to again venture on the premises, 
determined to have another shot or two. While thus situated 
and almost paralyzed with the cold and a disagreeable rain, just 
set in, Newbury heard a sound as if some one was attempting 
to climb a fence, a few yards away. His first impulse was that 
the noise was made by the man he had wounded, so he lowered 
his rifle and advanced in that direction. Hearing a deep groan, 
and now suspicioning that it might be Edwards, Newbury called 
his name, and found indeed that it was none other. 

It was only at this point that Newbury's real and manifold 
troubles commenced. He was eight or ten miles from the 
Union lines, surrounded by active enemies, with a helpless, per- 
haps dying comrade, depending upon him, and in absolute dark- 
ness, with a driving storm of rain, and a biting wind from the 
north. His brave heart almost failed at the prospect before him 
— the situation being anything but inviting. By dint of almost 
superhuman effort, Newbury finally succeeded in getting Ed- 
wards over the fence, which he had vainlv endeavored to climb.. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 209 

and partially by carrying, lugging and dragging the inanimate 
and blood-covered form of his companion, managed to gain the 
depths of a corn-field, where he left him to seek water which 
Edwards constantly craved to quench his insatiable and consum- 
ing thirst, so great was the fever with which he was no afflicted. 
Unfortunately, Newbury had left his canteen in the garden where 
he had slept, and was therefore without any vessel in which to 
carry water from Accotinck Creek, a quarter of a mile away, 
save the small tin cup which Edwards had picked up in Fitz- 
hugh's house and put in his haversack to keep as a souvenir 
of his visit. 

When, at length, daybreak came, Newbury, fairly exhausted 
by anxiety and his numerous trips through the corn-field to pro- 
cure water for his stricken companion, almost despaired of con- 
tinuing the journey unless he left Edwards behind, but after a 
brief rest while Edwards dosed, and ascertaining his location, 
he resumed his laborious and painful journey in the direction of 
camp, miles and miles away, with imminent and deadly perils 
intervening. 

Edwards, whose legs had become paralyzed, rendering him 
absolutely helpless, continued to suffer intense agony. His shat- 
tered and constantly bleeding arm, over which he had no con- 
trol, hung limp over Newbury's shoulder, which greatly added to 
his task in supporting his burden over the rough and uneven 
ground. At times Newbury was strongly tempted to abandon 
his rifle and cartridges, but feeling that two lives might depend 
on that protection, he as often relinquished the idea, and great 
and inconvenient as was his double burden, struggled on and on, 
determined, if necessary, to die in defence of his suffering com- 
panion, who, most of the time, was unconscious of the herculean 
efforts of the brave and gallant Union Carolinian to save his life, 
even at the risk of his own. No greater sacrifice can a man 
make than to offer his life for a helpless comrade or for his 
country. 

When Newbury, through a cold rain-storm and angry winds 
from the frozen north, finally reached Accotinck Creek, too deep 
to ford, he saw no way of crossing the stream, and his strength 
and heroic courage almost deserted him as he sadly contemplated 
the obstruction yawning before him. He knew of a bridge, 
several miles away, strongly guarded, and he also knew of an 
apology for a bridge improvised by nature in the shape of a 
monarch of the Virginia forest, prostrated by time and age. 
Concluding that this alone would enable him to cross the flow- 



210 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

ing stream, Newbury again shouldered his burden and labori- 
ously made his way thereto. The passage was made in safety, 
and Newbury was congratulating himself upon its accomplish- 
ment, when, in descending the trunk, somewhat elevated from 
the wet ground, he missed his precarious footing, and fell in the 
mud, carrying Edwards with him. A fearful and heart-rending 
cry of pain from the sufferer awoke echoes in the deep surround- 
ing woods, which resounded with alarming distinctness far and 
wide. To stifle Edwards' terrible moans of agony, Newbury was 
compelled to gag him for a time. 

All through that long and fearful day, with a fierce cold wind 
piercing the marrow of his bones, with his apparel thoroughly 
saturated with the constantly descending rain, the gallant New- 
bury toiled on and on towards the haven of rest and security. 
Weak, worn and faint from the great efforts he had put forth 
for more than sixteen hours, our hero, at seven o'clock in the 
evening of that dark and dreary November day, wearily reached 
a Union piquet post, falling prostrate through exhaustion, with 
his still unconscious burden, as Union soldiers hastened to his 
assistance, ministered to his necessities, and conveyed him and 
his suffering comrade to the hospital. 

A month later Newbury cleverly captured a private named 
Johnson, belonging to the Lincoln Cavalry of New York, while 
attempting to enter the Confederate lines as a deserter. John- 
son was shortly after executed for his crime in the presence of 
the Union army near Alexandria. 



NEW JERSEY'S MEDAL WINNERS. 



MORE than one million men have sought for, and less than 
two thousand men have secured, the most coveted prize 
offered by this country to the soldier and sailor — the 
Congressional Medal of Honor. But twenty-seven of this num- 
ber belonged to New Jersey commands — ten having member- 
ship in the First New Jersey cavalry, which appears to have 
been particularly fortunate in this respect. Not even a Presi- 
dent of the United States, as Commander in Chief, nor the Ad- 
miral of the Navy can win it, however brave they might be. 

The Medal of Honor is the highest decoration for personal 
valor awarded to soldiers and sailors of the United States. It is 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



211 




to Americans what the Iron 
Cross of Germany, the Vic- 
toria Cross of England, or the 
Cross of the Legion of Honor 
of France are to those coun- 
tries (but much harder to 
win), the reward of the high- 
est and most self-sacrificing 
heroism. Every wearer of it 
is supposed to be a hero 
whose personal deeds in bat- 
tle, by sea or land, have been 
so conspicuous as to merit the 
approval of the War Depart- 
ment and of the President of 
the United States, upon those 
who staked their all for the 
salvation of the country, but 
it is known medals have been 
issued to some who never had 
a sound claim for the prize. 
This is shown, for instance, 
in the award of medals to four 
members of the Twenty-seventh New Jersey Infantry — a nine 
months' regiment — for simply "offering their services to the Gov- 
ernment after the expiration of their term of service." If they 
were entitled to the honor, certainly hundreds of thousands of 
other men who re-enlisted after much longer and trying terms 
of service were justly entitled to the distinction. 

The greatest honor which the Government can bestow upon 
its soldiers and sailors and which carries no pension or other 
emolument with it, was conferred for conspicuous gallantry dur- 
ing the Civil War by an act of Congress, passed March 3, 1863. 
Recommendation for this decoration is referred to a special board 
of regular army officers at Washington, appointed by the Secre- 
tary of War, and approved by the President, for the purpose of 
examining the official reports. These are judged by a standard 
of extraordinary merit, and incontestable proof of the nature of 
the service rendered is exacted. The medal is not granted on 
the application of the person interested, nor upon the recom- 
mendation and testimony of his comrades. To obtain the medal 
a man must have a splendid record as well as a particular inci- 
dent of conspicuous bravery. 



212 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

As far back as 1782 General Washington established the 
honorary badge of military merit as a reward for men who served 
with distinction in the Revolutionary War. Since then the 
reward system has assumed different forms. The brevet sys- 
tem, which was the most popular form, was started in 1776, and 
yet at the commencement of the War of 1812 not a single army 
officer held a brevet. The system, however, was wonderfully 
developed in the Mexican War, and during and after the Civil 
War brevets were handed out promiscuously. They could be 
had for the asking. 

Thousands who fell in the Civil War gloriously earned the 
Medal of Honor, but Congress, cruel though it may seem, recog- 
nizes only the heroes who lived. In New Jersey time has thinned 
the ranks of the veterans of the Civil War, and now those who, 
by deeds of valor and merit, received the Medal of Honor for 
services rendered the United States, are few and far between. 
So far as I am able to ascertain, but four Jerseymen holders of 
the medal are now living. 

The following is a complete list of New Jersey soldiers who 
received the medal, with official record attached : 

Sergeant John P. Beech, Company B, Fourth New Jersey 
Infantry, Spottsylvania Court House, Va., May 12, 1864. Vol- 
untarily worked gun of battery that had been deserted. 

Lieutenant William Brant, Company B, First New Jersey 
Veteran Battalion, Petersburg, April 3, 1865. Found flag of 
Forty-sixth North Carolina Regiment on picket line. 

Sergeant Samuel T. Clancy, Company C, First New Jersey 
Cavalry, Vaughn Road, Va., October 1, 1864. Shot and killed 
Confederate General Dunovant during a charge, thus confusing 
enemy and greatly aiding in repulse. 

Private Richard Conner, Company F, Sixth New Jersey In- 
fantry, Bull Run, Va., August 30, 1862. The flag of the Sixth 
Regiment having been abandoned during a retreat, Conner 
voluntarily returned with a single companion under a heavy fire 
and secured and brought off the colors, his comrade being killed. 

Sergeant Major Amos J. Cummings, Twenty-sixth New 
Jersey Infantry, Salem Heights, Va., May 4, 1863. Rendered 
great assistance in the heat of the action in rescuing a part of 
one of the field batteries from an extremely dangerous and 
exposed position. 

Captain J. Madison Drake, Ninth New Jersey Infantry. 
Gallant and distinguished services in the field, 1861-1865. First 
to enter Confederate works at the battle of Newbern, N. C, 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 213 

March 14, 1862. Commanded advance of Army of the James in 
its attack on Drewry's Bluff, Va., May, 1861. 

First Sergeant Edmund English, Company C, Second New 
Jersey Infantry, Wilderness, Va., May 6, 1864. During a rout, 
and while under orders to retreat, seized the colors, rallied the 
men and drove the enemy back. 

Private Frank Fesq, Company A,> Fortieth New Jersey In- 
fantry, Petersburg, Va., April 2, 1865. Captured flag of Eigh- 
teenth North Carolina Infantry. 

Corporal William B. Hooper, Company L. First New Jer- 
sey Cavalry, Chamberlain's Creek, Va., March 31, 1865. With 
the assistance of comrade, headed off the advance of the enemy, 
shooting two of his color-bearers ; also posted himself between 
the enemy and the led horses of his own command, thus saving 
the herd from capture. 

Private Charles F. Hopkins, Company I, First New Jersey 
Infantry, Gaines's Mill, Va., June 27, 1862. Voluntarily carried 
a wounded comrade (the late Quartermaster-General R. A. Don- 
nelly) under a heavy fire to a place of safety ; though twice 
wounded in the act, he continued in action until again severely 
wounded. 

Private Lewis Locke, Company A, First New Jersey Cav- 
alry, Paine's Cross Roads, Va., April 5, 1865. Captured Con- 
federate flag. 

Drummer William Megee, Company G, Thirty-third New 
Jersey Infantry, Murfreesboro, Tenn., December 5, 1864. Among 
first to capture two guns. 

Sergeant William Porter, Company H, First New Jersey 
Cavalry, Nashville, Tenn., December 15-16, 1864. Among the 
first to check the enemy's countercharge. 

Sergeant John C. Sagelhurst, Company C, First New Jer- 
sey Cavalry, Hatcher's Run, Va., February 6, 1865. Under a 
heavy fire from the enemy carried off the field a commissioned 
officer who was severely wounded, and also led a charge on 
enemy's rifle pits. (This medal was issued January 31, 1906.) 

Colonel William J. Sewell, Fifth New Jersey Infantry, Chan- 
cellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863. Assuming command of brigade, 
he rallied around his colors a mass of men from other regiments 
and fought these troops with great brilliancy through several 
hours of desperate conflict, remaining in command though 
wounded and inspiring them by his presence and the gallantry of 
his personal example. 

Sergeant David Southard, Company C, First New Jersey 



214 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Cavalry, Sailors' Creek, Va., April 6, 1865. Capture of flag, and 
first man over in enemy's works. 

First Sergeant George W. Stewart, Company E, First New 
Jersey Cavalry, Paine's Cross Roads, April 5, 1865. Capture 
of flag. 

Private Christian Sterile, Company L, First New Jersey 
Cavalry, Paine's Cross Roads, Va., April 5, 1865. Capture of 
flag. 

Captain Forester L. Taylor, Company H, Twenty-third New 
Jersey Infantry, Chancellorsville, Va., May 3, 1863. At great 
risk, voluntarily saved the lives of, and brought from battle- 
field, two wounded comrades. 

Sergeant Charles Titus, Company H, First New Jersey Cav- 
alry, Sailors' Creek, Va., April 6, 1865. Was among the first to 
check the enemy's countercharge. 

Lieutenant John J. Toffey, Company G, Thirty-third New 
Jersey Infantry. Although excused from duty on account of 
sickness, he went to the front in command of a storming party 
and with conspicuous gallantry participated in the assault on 
Missionary Ridge. 

Sergeant Aaron B. Tomkins, Company G, First New Jersey 
Cavalry, Sailors' Creek, Va., April 6, 1865. Charged into enemy's 
ranks and captured flag, having horse shot under him, and his 
cheeks and shoulder cut with a sabre. 

Sergeant Charles E. Wilson, Company A, First New Jersey 
Cavalry, Sailors' Creek, Va., April 6, 1865. Charged the enemy's 
works, colors in hand, and had two horses shot under him. 

Sergeant John Wilson, Company L, First New Jersey Cav- 
alry, Chamberlain's Creek, Va., March 31, 1865. With the 
assistance of one comrade headed off the advance of the enemy, 
shooting two of his color-bearers, and kept between the enemy 
and the led horses of his company, thus saving the herd from 
capture. 

TRICKED BY SHARPSHOOTER. 

OF the many brave and noble-hearted young men in the 
army during the Civil War none were more daring or 
faithful in the execution of dangerous duty than Dennis 
McDonald, of Company K, Third New Jersey Volunteers, still 
living at his home in Elizabeth. McDonald was but 18 years of 
age when he responded to the call of his adopted country for 
volunteers to defend the flag he loved. He participated with 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 215 

his command in nearly all the battles in which the Army of the 
Potomac engaged, and was noted for expertness with a ritie. 

It was while pursuing General Lee's decimated, defeated 
and demoralized army, after the sanguinary three days' battle 
at Gettysburg that McDonald's company found itself on the 
advancing skirmish line, close upon the heel of the swiftly retreat- 
ing Confederates, who were taking desperate chances in reaching 
the Potomac River. So severe and hot was one fight which the 
Confederates put up at one particular spot, that the lieutenant, 
to save Company K from capture, ordered a retreat. The retro- 
gade movement was executed by all save McDonald, who, secur- 
ing the friendly protection of a large tree conveniently at hand, 
remained and continued firing on his own account, as oppor- 
tunity presented itself. 

After a while McDonald, peering from his covert, and see- 
ing the Confederates disappearing from his front, stepped out 
into the open, and was surprised when he heard the report of a 
rifle and felt a big Minnie bullet tearing through his old blue cap, 
which was carried from his head. A moment sufficed to regain 
the covering he had the moment before left. He knew a Con- 
federate sharpshooter was similarly situated a hundred or so 
yards in his front, and realized that one or the other must suffer 
because of the peculiar situation in which they thus unexpectedly 
found themselves. 

McDonald, holding his very breath, waited some time to 
hear from the Confederate, who continued to hug his tree as 
closely as possible, and finally finding it useless to prolong the 
agony he was suffering, resorted to the ruse of placing his cap 
on the muzzle of his rifle, and slowly extending the weapon, ex- 
posed the headgear. The stratagem succeeded, as the next in- 
stant a well-aimed bullet went crashing through the cap, and 
McDonald fell to the ground in plain view of his enemy, who 
instantly darted from his hiding place and advanced on a run 
toward the prostrate and supposedly dead wounded soldier. 

McDonald, all alert, waited till the self-confident Confederate 
reached within a few feet of where he lay, then he sprang to his 
feet and leveling his rifle at the onrushing Confederate, bade 
him halt, throw down his unloaded weapon and surrender. 

Surprised at McDonald's return to life as well as his de- 
mand, the plucky Confederate turned upon his heel and dashed 
away in the direction in which he had just come. 

"Halt !" shouted McDonald, giving instant chase, "or I'll 
blow vour head off." 



216 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

To this peremptory summons the Confederate paid no heed, 
but continued his flight, the Union soldier close in his rear. 

McDonald, now some distance in advance of the Union 
troops, fearful of running into a bunch of Confederates, and hav- 
ing no desire to be killed or taken to Richmond, determined to 
bring matters to a conclusion. He shouted loud enough to 
awaken the "seven sleepers," but the fleeing Confederate con- 
tinued on. Nothing but a bullet would stop his flight, and this 
the now hard-breathing Union soldier was compelled to send. 

"Halt ! or I'll shoot. Last call," said McDonald, and suiting 
the action to the word, he discharged his trusty rifle, bringing 
down his quarry with a bullet through one of his legs. In an- 
other moment McDonald was at the side of the prostrate 
Southron. 

"Curse you," he bitterly ejaculated. "I hope I'll live to get 
even with you for this." 

It was thousands of instances of like character that showed 
the stuff of which Northern and Southern soldiers in the great 
Civil War were made. 



THE "TECUMSEH'S" MOURNFUL FATE. 

UNDERNEATH the ever-flowing waters of Mobile Bay, 
near the ruins of Fort Morgan, which the Confederates 
deemed impregnable, forever lies buried the United 
States Monitor Tecumseh, a powerful craft with its living cargo 
of one hundred brave souls, having been sent to its final resting- 
place early on the morning of August 5, 1864, by a Confederate 
torpedo. Within the iron walls of the unfortunate Tecumseh, 
the only vessel in the great sea fight there to meet with disaster, 
still repose the bones of one hundred of the bravest young men 
who ever served our country — one of whom, when the Civil War 
burst forth, was a resident of Elizabeth. 

It was six o'clock in the morning of that glorious and event- 
ful day, in which American valor shone with conspicuous bril- 
liancy, when the Union fleet, in command of Admiral David G. 
Farragut (an ensign in the navy at the age of eleven years), who 
first saw the light of day in a humble cabin among the mountains 
of East Tennessee, the greatest seaman of his day, after locking 
his vessels together, two by two, steamed from the open sea into 
the bay, strongly guarded by forts on land and powerful ships 
ready to dispute entrance. The Brooklyn led the column, fol- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 217 

lowed by Farragut's flagship, the immortal Hartford, and in sin- 
gle file ahead of this procession of death and destruction went 
four iron-clad monitors, escorted by the fated Tecumseh. 

The Tecumseh fired the first two shots in opening what 
proved to be one of the fiercest naval engagements recorded in 
history, lasting, as it did, from seven o'clock in the morning till 
five o'clock in the afternoon, and ending in the complete triumph 
of the Union fleet. The intrepid Farragut, lashed to the rigging, 
close under the maintop, the better to watch the progress of the 
battle, and give more intelligent orders, seeing the Brooklyn 
wavering in its advance after the Tecumseh went to the bottom, 
signaled to his commander, "What's the trouble?" On receiv- 
ing the answer, "Torpedoes ahead !" the admiral replied, "Damn 
the torpedoes ! Go ahead ! Four bells !" 

Somewhat provoked at the slight stoppage of the Brooklyn, 
the admiral at once ordered the Hartford to forge ahead, and in 
a moment that noble ship passed the Brooklyn, an awful silence 
pervading her crew as she went, full speed, straight for the line 
of torpedoes, and in safety crossed what was considered the fatal 
line. 

A recent guest of Sergeant William Zimmerman of Eliza- 
beth, who was a gunner on the Hartford, in telling the Zouaves 
about the fight, said that one of the strangest fatalities he saw 
during the whole course of the war was when a powder boy 
named Clark, hailing from some part of New Jersey, lost both 
legs by a round shot from the Confederate ram Tennessee, which 
tore through both sides of the Hartford. "As Clark fell," con- 
tinued the old sailor, "he involuntarily threw up both hands, 
when a second but smaller missile took off both arms above the 
elbow. He lived but a few minutes. 

"Yes, I saw the Monitor Tecumseh go down. She was 
struck forward and directly underneath by a powerful mine. I 
was looking out of a port-hole at the moment, trying to see all I 
could, which, I must say, was very little, owing to the small 
opening, and it just chanced that as I looked out at one time 
between the shots, I saw the Tecumseh raised from the water, 
and the next instant plunge bow foremost, with her colors flying, 
to the bottom of the deep channel. 

"My heart almost failed me at this awful sight, which I was 
attempting to describe to those about me, when an officer bade 
me be quiet. He probably didn't want the men to get rattled 
over the circumstance. There was a moment or two about that 
time when we all shook in our shoes, as we knew there would be 



218 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

a slim chance for us to escape in case our ship should be struck 
in a vital part, or sunk by one of the several Confederate vessels 
which made repeated attempts to ram us. 

"I saw Admiral Farragut ascend the rigging of the Hart- 
ford to a height of some sixty feet in order to know more about 
what was going on, and heard Captain Drayton, who feared the 
admiral might fall, order 'Dick' Knowles to accompany the old 
fellow and lash him to the rope ladder up which he made his way 
with extreme agility. 

"It had been the admiral's intention to occupy the top, to 
which a rubber hose, with tin mouth-piece at each end, was hung 
on the mast from the top to the deck, so that he could the more 
readily communicate with our pilot, but it being found expedient 
to mount a gun up there, the admiral took position in the rig- 
ging underneath, and was strapped to it with a gasket. Tire- 
some as it must have been, the admiral remained in that position 
for several hours. None of us thought anything about the lash- 
ing incident at the time, or dreamed that it was just the thing 
that would catch the public fancy and make the admiral more 
famous than any other incident of his long career. At Santiago, 
a few years ago, a fleet captain, fifty miles away from the point 
of danger, was made a rear-admiral, but things are far different 
in these days." 

Of the sad fate of the brave defenders of our flag, thus 
cruelly engulfed beneath the waters of Mobile Bay that day, 
under a terrible fire or iron hail rained from land and sea, and 
who have since slept tranquilly in their iron tomb, I doubt not, 
all met the last grim messenger with eye and heart uplifted, it 
may be, but dauntless and unquailing, having commended them- 
selves to the mercy of Heaven, their last moments doubtless be- 
ing spent in invoking blessings on the heads of loved ones at 
home, who grew faint while keeping weary vigils for the loved 
and lost. 

THE NOTED WAR EAGLE. 

THE present busy generation knows but little, if anything, 
concerning "Old Abe," the war eagle of the Eighth Wis- 
consin Regiment, a bird that may be said to be immortal, 
because of its association through the long and bitter war for 
the Union, with the western army, whose members idolized it 
while alive and mourned for it when dead. 

"Old Abe" died at Madison, the capital of Wisconsin, in 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 219 

1881, at the age of twenty years. While in attendance at the 
National Republican Convention at Chicago in June, 1868, 
when General Grant was first nominated for the presidency, amid 
the greatest enthusiasm ever shown at such a gathering, I very 
well remember the tumultuous scenes and uproarious applause 
enacted by the immense assemblage in the most commodious 
theatre in Chicago, when "Old Abe," perched upon the staff on 
which he had accompanied the Eighth Regiment in all its cam- 
paigns, was borne in upon the stage after General Grant's nomi- 
nation had been made by acclamation. 

Born in the wilds of Wisconsin just previous to the out- 
break of the war, the chequered life of "Old Abe" was an ova- 
tion from beginning to end. General Grant himself might have 
envied the popularity of this noble bird, and long in vain for the 
cheers and applause which everywhere, and upon all occasions, 
greeted him. "Old Abe," always borne aloft beside the silken 
colors of his regiment, and consequently a conspicuous mark in 
the thirty-six battles through which he passed, although fre- 
quently struck by bullets, escaped serious injury. In the battle's 
red heat his piercing screams nerved the men of his regiment to 
deeds of daring, and never a bird that wore plumage had experi- 
ences or fame like "Old Abe." No other command ever had or 
used such a mascot — one so capable of exciting imagination and 
inciting soldiery to the work before them — so glorious an 
emblem. 

The golden eagle was the military emblem of the Roman 
republic, the attachment of its troops to the standard being in- 
spired by the united influence of religion and honor. It glittered 
in the front of the legion, and was ever the object of fondest 
devotion ; nor was it esteemed less impious than ignominious. 
to abandon that sacred ensign in the hour of danger. The golden 
eagle, too, was the treasured ensign of Napoleon and his choicest 
followers, but the American eagle was and is the symbol of the 
greatest and freest republic ever formed — our own beloved 
America. 

"Old Abe," too, was a faithful and intelligent sentinel, as 
on repeated occasions he sounded notes of warning of the hither- 
to unsuspected advance of the enemy. He seemed gifted with 
human instinct, and it was because of acts of this character that 
"Old Abe" was regarded by the soldiers with feelings akin to 
superstitious reverence. 

Often and again did "Old Abe" play tricks on his caretaker 
by escaping, and soaring high towards the heavens, to be out of 



220 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

the enemy's range, enjoy an ethereal excursion, and tiring of the 
mid-air flight, return to his place in the marching column. At 
the battle of Jackson, in rear of Vicksburg, during the siege of 
that stronghold, a terrible storm of lightning and thunder added 
clamor to the wild roar of the contest, but this merely added to 
the joys of "Old Abe," upon whose pinions the lightning played, 
as spreading his majestic wings he whistled in a manner peculiar 
to himself and screamed like the true bird of Jove that he was. 

"Old Abe" delighted particularly in the booming of artillery, 
never manifesting fear in presence of the big guns that constantly 
pounded away at Vicksburg. On the contrary, at every dis- 
charge he would spread his wings and utter cloud-reaching 
screams as if animated by all the enthusiasm of war, and the 
exciting scenes about him. His conduct at such times was highly 
inspiring. 

At the final assault on Vicksburg "Old Abe" firmly gripped 
his perch, as he was borne along and aloft, craned his beautiful 
and graceful neck to watch the movements of the troops, his 
eyes blazing and seeming in a frenzy of rage. While the colors 
of the Eighth Regiment, ever at his side, were riddled, "Old 
Abe," although hit several times, escaped injury. 

Upon the return home of the Eighth Regiment, and its 
muster-out of the service, "Old Abe" was presented to the state, 
the governor accepting the old warrior in an eloquent speech, 
promising that the commonwealth should care for him till 
the end, which was religiously done — the bird having a com- 
fortable home in the basement of the capital, where, until his 
death, he was an object of especial interest to all visitors. 

Smoke at a fire in an adjoining apartment caused the death 
of "Old Abe" by asphyxiation, and he was made a subject of 
the taxidermist's art, and to-day his stuffed effigy, gracefully 
placed upon his old perch, attracts all visitors to the state house 
at Madison. 



REGULARS AND VOLUNTEERS COMPARED. 

IN times of war the American nation has always relied upon 
the people for volunteers to defend its institutions, and the 
people of the United States owe their present marvelous 
prosperity, their peace at home and world-wide influence to the 
single fact that the Union was preserved by the self-sacrifices, 
patriotism, valor, and fortitude of the volunteers. In respect to 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 221 

the interests of the entire human race, the preservation of the 
Union was the most important political event in the tide of time, 
and the victory achieved by American volunteers, after a des- 
perate struggle for four years, kept in the political firmament of 
the world, as a beacon light, the republican principle of self- 
government. The repose, progress and prosperity, to say noth- 
ing about the very existence of the United States as a nation, was 
involved in that sanguinary struggle. 

The regular army of the United States has ever been a neg- 
ligible quantity. When the war of 1812 began we had but 6,686 
officers and men, all told, in the regular establishment. In 1814 
the number was temporarily increased to 38,186. During the 
war the country raised 31,210 officers and 440,412 enlisted men, 
making a total of 471,622. 

When war was declared against Mexico the regular army 
numbered 637 officers and 5,925 enlisted men — a total of 6,562. 
By July, 1814, we had 1,016 officers and 35,009 enlisted men — a 
total of 42,587. A volunteer force of 3,131 officers and 70,129 
enlisted men, a total of 73,260, was raised for that war. 

When the Civil War came the regular army consisted of but 
15,215 officers and men, scattered throughout our broad land. In 
June, 1862, the regular army numbered 1,720 officers and 23,761 
enlisted men — total, 25,480. In June, 1863, there were 1,844 
officers and 22,915 men— total, 24,759. In June, 1864, there were 
1,813 officers and 19,791 men— total, 21,604. In April, 1865, 
when General Lee surrendered his Army of Northern Virginia 
to General Grant at Appomattox, the regular army consisted of 
1,606 officers and 20.705 men, a total of 22,311 of all arms. 

The volunteer enlistments of all lengths of service during 
the four years of the Civil War numbered 2,763,670. These re- 
duced to a three years' standard of enlistment numbered 2,324,- 
516. 

The regular army lost but 122 officers and 1,519 enlisted 
men killed in action, and 452 officers and 6,663 enlisted men 
wounded. Of the volunteers, 4,142 officers and 62,916 enlisted 
men were killed in action, and 2,223 officers and 40,787 enlisted 
men died of wounds, making a total of 110,065 officers and en- 
listed men who lost their lives in action. This shows with ter- 
rible distinctness the difference in casualties between the regulars 
and volunteers. This does not include the 248,000 volunteers 
who died of diseases and casualties incident to the service, and 
hundreds of thousands of volunteers who were wounded and 
recovered. 



222 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

While all regular army officers, many of whom secured snug 
berths in Washington and other cities while the righting was 
going on ; on retirement received three-fourths' pay for life, not a 
volunteer officer, save a few of high rank who had political influ- 
ence in congress, ever received that recognition. 

Will any one say this is just? 



NEW JERSEY'S FORCE IN THE FIELD. 

IN its efforts to sustain the Government and aid in the preser- 
vation of the American Union in the fratricidal conflict of 

1861-1865, New Jersey, true to its traditions, gave freely of 
its treasure, and its best blood crimsoned nearly every battle- 
field of the republic. 

The defiant shouts of New Jersey soldiers were first heard 
in the swamps of Roanoke Island, and these were echoed on the 
heights of Fredericksburg, in the Shenandoah valley, at Gettys- 
burg, in the impenetrable thickets of the Wilderness, on the 
banks of the majestic James River, at Missionary Ridge, among 
the clouds at Lookout Mountain and other sanguinary fields. 

I have compiled the following from the official records of the 
rebellion, as published by the state of New Jersey, and the facts 
given may not be wholly uninteresting to readers of the present 
day. 

New Jersey is credited with having furnished about 80,000 
men for the army and navy during the Civil War, but probably 
one-fourth of this aggregate enlisted two or three times. Thou- 
sands, however, who "jumped the bounty" at every opportunity 
and never gave a "quid pro quo" for the money expended upon 
them, enlisted more frequently. 

First Regiment — Officers, 38; enlisted men, 996. Gained — 
Officers, 61; enlisted men, 302. Died — Officers, 10; enlisted 
men, 224. Deserted — 124. 

Second Regiment — Officers, 38; enlisted men, 1,006. Gained 
— Officers, 79; enlisted men, 1,075. Died — Officers, 9; enlisted 
men, 151. Deserted— 204. 

Third Regiment — Officers, 38; enlisted men, 1,013. Gained 
— Officers, 76; enlisted men, 148. Died — Officers, 10; enlisted 
men, 203. Deserted — 111. 

Fourth Regiment — Officers, 38; enlisted men, 871. Gained 
— Officers, 99; enlisted men, 1,028. Died — Officers, 7; enlisted 
men, 250. Deserted — 371. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 223 

Fifth Regiment — Officers, 38; enlisted men, 823. Gained — 
Officers, 66; enlisted men, 845. Died — Officers, 13; enlisted 
men, 201. Deserted — 251. 

Sixth Regiment — Officers, 38 ; enlisted men, 860. Gained — 
Officers, 50; enlisted men, 537. Died — Officers, 4; enlisted men, 
176. Deserted— 209. 

Seventh Regiment — Officers, 38 ; enlisted men, 882. Gained 
— Officers, 108 ; enlisted men, 1,078. Died — Officers, 13 ; enlisted 
men, 247. Deserted, 656. 

Eighth Regiment — Officers, 38; enlisted men, 851. Gained 
— Officers, 87; enlisted men, 1,819. Died — Officers, 10; enlisted 
men, 274. Deserted — 416. 

Ninth Regiment — Officers, 42; enlisted men, 1,115. Gained 
— Officers, 85; enlisted men, 1,459. Died — Officers, 11 ; enlisted 
men, 243. Deserted — 167. 

Tenth Regiment — Officers, 35 ; enlisted men, 883. Gained — 
Officers, 69. Died — Officers, 5 ; enlisted men, 269. Deserted — 
748. 

Eleventh Regiment — Officers, 39 ; enlisted men, 940. Gained 
— Officers, 57 ; enlisted men, 804. Died — Officers, 1 1 ; enlisted 
men, 222. Deserted — 451. 

Twelfth Regiment — Officers, 39; enlisted men, 953. Gained 
—Officers, 37; enlisted men, 850. Died— Officers, 9; enlisted 
men, 252. Deserted — 216. 

Thirteenth Regiment — Officers, 38; enlisted men, 899. 
Gained — Officers, 57 ; enlisted men, 444. Died — Officers, 3 ; en- 
listed men, 103. Deserted — 178. 

Fourteenth Regiment — Officers, 39; enlisted men, 968. 
Gained — Officers, 47 ; enlisted men, 330. Died — Officers, 8 ; en- 
listed men, 240. Deserted — 97. 

Fifteenth Regiment — Officers, 38 ; enlisted men, 909. Gained 
—Officers, 72; enlisted men, 852. Died— Officers, 9; enlisted 
men, 352. Deserted — 108. 

Sixteenth Regiment (First Cavalry) — Officers, 44; enlisted 
men, 998. Gained — Officers, 150; enlisted men, 2,125. Died — 
Officers, 16; enlisted men, 282. Deserted— 452. 

(The First New Jersey Cavalry was the Sixteenth Regiment, 
and the four regiments of militia, "First Defenders," which am 
swered President Lincoln's first call, in April, 1861, were num- 
bered Seventeenth, Eighteenth, Nineteenth and Twentieth Regi- 
ments, respectively.) 

The Twenty-first, Twenty-second, Twenty-third, Twenty- 
fourth, Twenty-fifth, Twenty-sixth, Twenty-seventh, Twenty- 



224 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

eighth, Twenty-ninth, Thirtieth and Thirty-first Regiments were 
called out for nine months in 1862. 

Twenty-first Regiment: Died — Officers, 2; enlisted men, 
49. Deserted — 44. 

Twenty-second Regiment: Died — Officers, 1 ; enlisted men, 
37. Deserted— 12. 

Twenty-third Regiment: Died — Officers, 5; enlisted men, 
79. Deserted— 10. 

Twenty-fourth Regiment : Died — Officers, 3 ; enlisted men, 
89. Deserted— 8. 

Twenty-fifth Regiment : Died — Officers, 1 ; enlisted men, 
56. Deserted — 18. 

Twenty-sixth Regiment : Died — Officers, 1 ; enlisted men, 
35. Deserted — 26. 

Twenty-seventh Regiment : Died — Officers, 1 ; enlisted 
men, 85. Deserted — 44. 

Twenty-eighth Regiment : Died — Officers, 2 ; enlisted men, 
79. Deserted — 15. 

Twenty-ninth Regiment : Died — Officers, ; enlisted men, 
4. Deserted— 17. 

Thirtieth Regiment: Died — Officers, 2; enlisted men, 62. 
Deserted — 14. 

Thirty-first Regiment : Died — Officers, ; enlisted men, 39. 
Deserted — 2. 

Thirty-second Regiment (Second Cavalry) — Officers, 44; en- 
listed men, 1,105. Gained — Officers, 36; enlisted men, 1,715. 
Died — Officers, 3; enlisted men, 231. Deserted — 724. 

Thirty-third Regiment — Officers, 39 ; enlisted men, 902. 
Gained — Officers, 36; enlisted men, 1,207. Died — Officers, 6; 
enlisted men, 141. Deserted — 502. 

Thirty-fourth Regiment — Officers, 35 ; enlisted men, 830. 
Gained — Officers, 27; enlisted men, 1,401. Died — Officers, 3; 
enlisted men. 152. Deserted — 728. 

Thirty-fifth Regiment — Officers, 37 ; enlisted men, 865. 
Gained — Officers, 37 ; enlisted men, 967. Died — Officers, 3 ; en- 
listed men, 144. Deserted — 4-30. 

Thirty-sixth Regiment (Third Cavalry) — Officers, 47 ; en- 
listed men, 1,131. Gained — Officers, 59; enlisted men, 997. 
Died — Officers, 5 ; enlisted men, 140. Deserted — 439. 

Thirty-seventh Regiment (100 days) — Officers, 35 ; enlisted 
men, 743. Gained — Officers, 2; enlisted men, 1. Died — Officers, 
1 ; enlisted men, 18. Deserted — 36. 

Thirty-eighth Regiment (one year) — Officers, 58; enlisted 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 225 

men, 944. Gained — Officers, 7 ; enlisted men, 59. Died — Offi- 
cers, 0; enlisted men, 11. Deserted — 59. 

Thirty-ninth Regiment (one year) — Officers, 39 ; enlisted 
men, 977. Gained — Enlisted men, 112. Died — Officers, 3; en- 
listed men, 36. Deserted — 53. 

Fortieth Regiment (one year) — Officers, 37 ; enlisted men, 
984. Gained — Officers, 9 ; enlisted men — 379. Died — Officers, 
0; enlisted men, 19. Deserted — 399. 

The four regiments of New Jersey Militia (really volun- 
teers) was the first brigade to reach the National Capital under 
President Lincoln's first call for 75,000 men. The brigade, in 
command of Major General Theodore Runyon, after crossing 
the Long Bridge over the Potomac, on May 24, 1861, led the 
advance of the grand army in the direction of Alexandria, and 
for two months performed the hardest kind of service in guard- 
ing outposts and in constructing Fort Runyon, the most exten- 
sive earthwork put up for the defense of Washington on the right 
bank of the river. The men of the brigade, although performing 
"extra duty" most of the time of their enlistment, never received 
any pay for their herculean labor, save the munificent salary of 
$11 per month. Most of the men, on their return home after 
the battle of Bull Run, enlisted in three-year regiments. 

The Ninth was the first New Jersey Regiment to engage in 
battle with the enemy, participating, as it did, with great bril- 
liancy at Roanoke Island, on February 8; Newbern, on March 
14, and the siege and capture of Fort Macon, in April, 1862. 
This was anterior to any general engagement of the Army of 
the Potomac, to which all the eight regiments that preceded the 
Ninth to the field belonged. It was the only New Jersey Regi- 
ment to lose two colonels, Allen and Zabriskie. The Ninth 
served a longer period than any other New Jersey Regiment — 
nearly four years. 

The Fifteenth Regiment, one of the immortal commands of 
the Republic, was the only New Jersey command that lost more 
than 300 men, the First New Jersey Cavalry being a close second. 

From the forty regiments New Jersey sent into the field 
there were 7,637 desertions, exclusive of 1,041 "not accounted 
for." The Tenth Regiment led this list, with a total of 748, the 
Thirty-fourth being second, with 728. 

New Jersey, during the Civil War, lost on fields of battle 
218 commissioned officers and 6,082 enlisted men, nearly as. 
many, in the aggregate, as the state furnished the Continental' 
army during the Revolutionary War. 



226 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



DARING FEATS OF UNION SCOUTS. 

THERE were thousands of instances during the Civil War 
where both officers and enlisted men vied in tendering 
their services for perilous enterprises in aid of their coun- 
try's cause. When volunteers were called for to render services 
of a peculiarly dangerous character outside the line of regular 
duty, enlisted men were invariably selected for the task, not that 
they were any better qualified, perhaps, for the dangerous under- 
taking, but rather because commissioned officers, sometimes but 
one with a company, could ill be spared from their command. 

I have in mind two instances of enlisted men being called 
upon to volunteer upon a mission of imminent danger — no less 
an undertaking than to enter the enemy's lines to obtain infor- 
mation greatly desired by the commanding general. If captured 
they knew the penalty would be a disgraceful death by a short 
piece of hemp. 

It was while the Ninth New Jersey Regiment, which had 
been particularly active in the spring campaign of 1864, but ter- 
ribly decimated in numbers in the series of battles in front of 
Drewry's Bluff, seven miles below Richmond, that General But- 
ler, commanding the Army of the James, asked for four enlisted 
men from that command to enter the Confederate lines in front 
of Petersburg, and act as scouts, or more properly speaking, as 
■"spies," on the enemy's movements. 

Notwithstanding the desperate and dangerous character of 
the service to be performed, a score of bright, brave, young fel- 
lows promptly stepped forward with the same disposition and 
devotion to country as actuated the gallant Captain Nathan 
Hale, of blessed Revolutionary memory, to do the general's 
bidding, or die, if need be, in the attempt. As but four men 
were required, the following were selected: 

Privates Marshall Howell and Daniel Johnson, of Company 
H, and Privates James Van Buskirk and Robert H. White, of 
Company B. 

It was early in the evening of May 22 that these four hardy, 
brave and venturesome young men quietly made their way out 
of the Union works to enter, as it were, the open jaws of death. 
Howell and Johnson traveled in one direction — Van Buskirk 
and White in another. The two former had proceeded but a 
short distance, however, when they suddenly ran afoul of a 
.strong Confederate picket, and were fired upon, a volley of bul- 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 227 

lets whistling about them, fairly taking- away their breath. John- 
son received a slight wound in one of his feet, Howell escaping 
with the loss of his canteen, which was riddled and emptied of 
its contents, causing him great suffering from thirst before he 
succeeded in regaining the Union lines, which he did some thirty 
hours afterward. Johnson, finding himself no longer able to 
pursue his researches owing to his wound, crept into the trunk 
of a hollow tree, fortunately near at hand, and, watching a favor- 
able opportunity, succeeded in making his way back to camp, 
reaching it just as day was breaking. 

Howell, however, had better luck, and being anxious to 
secure the reward the liberal-minded general was in the habit of 
bestowing upon those who rendered especially valuable services, 
hid in a heavy thicket until things became quiet, when he cau- 
tiously continued on the course he had mapped out. This, of 
course, was attended by the most imminent danger, as he was 
likely to meet an armed Confederate at almost every step. Final- 
ly gaining a position affording him excellent facilities for ob- 
serving the enemy, he climbed a stout tree adorned with luxur- 
iant foliage, and there ensconced himself. 

During the long day that followed, Howell, from his covert, 
saw a large force of men busily engaged in repairing the railroad, 
recently torn up by our troops, and witnessed the moving forces 
beyond Walthall, as well as the erection of new earthworks. 
Making notes and rough sketches of what he saw and heard, 
Howell, suffering intensely from thirst, owing to the loss of 
water from his perforated canteen, when the shades of evening 
fell, descended from his perch, his limbs being so stiffened that 
he could hardly stand upon his feet, and started on his return 
for camp, which he safely reached without further adventure wor- 
thy of note, as the scorching sun came peeping over the bluffs 
along the James River. 

Howell promptly reported to General Butler, who warmly 
greeted him, and commended his action by presenting him with 
$500 in beautiful, crisp greenbacks, as a partial return for the 
important service rendered. General Butler, always good to 
those who were faithful, further rewarded Howell with a fur- 
lough for a week, and promised to attend his wedding and dance 
at it. 

Howell is still living at his home in Pen Argyl, Pa. 

James Van Buskirk, for many years, and at present, a resi- 
dent of Bayonne, recently furnished me with the following inter- 
esting narrative of the adventure he and White had on this 
occasion : 



228 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



"White and I, who left the Union outpost together quite 
early in the evening, heard nothing of the enemy until we had 
traveled some considerable distance, when we became cognizant 
of the near presence of Confederate pickets along the line of the 
railroad near Port Walthall, with which ground I was quite 
familiar, our regiment having fought there on the 6th and 7th 
of May. The discovery of the enemy's pickets, who proved to 
be cavalrymen, necessarily made us wary of our movements. 
White and I crawled along upon the ground, foot by foot, and 
succeeded, after considerable delay, in passing the first line. 
Then we turned our course to the right, keeping about midway 
between this line and a second one a few hundred yards in rear. 
We traveled in this way, slowly and cautiously, for some three 
miles, before we were able to pass around the left flank of the 
position, to get in the rear of the Confederate battle line, 
stretched out for a long distance. In the course of our difficult 
peregrinations we ran suddenly upon General Beauregard's 
headquarters, near which we lingered for some time, Micawber- 
like, waiting for something to turn up that might prove of value 
to General Butler. 

"We had been ordered to return to camp before daylight, 
and, finding that nothing more was likely to be gained by re- 
maining where we were, we set out upon our return, making a 
circuit farther to the rear, in the direction of Petersburg, whose 
lights we could plainly distinguish. We gained the right bank 
of the Appomattox before daylight, and secreted ourselves in 
the woods to await the darkness of the following night, when 
we hoped to cross and make our report. We were congratulat- 
ing ourselves upon the good fortune attending our adventure, 
when we were startled by the approach and entrance of a strong 
regiment of North Carolina cavalry into the woods in which we 
had sought refuge. When the command halted and the men dis- 
mounted, our hopes were blasted, as we saw no way of evading 
them. As the men quickly overran the woods, they espied us, 
when we sprang up and sought safety in headlong flight. The 
Confederates fired upon us and started in pursuit, speedily over- 
taking us. We surrendered as gracefully as possible. 

"'What are you uns doin' heah?' asked a young officer, 
who had by this time reached us. 'We were out foraging and 
became separated from our command,' T replied. 'I guess you 
lie !' hissed the officer. 'Come, boys, let's hang the Yan- 
kees.' Our situation now looked serious — not at all rosy — as in 
a twinkling two or three cavalrymen came running up with ropes, 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



229 



taken from their saddles. Quite a crowd had gathered by this 
time, and 'Bob' and I began to feel nervous, especially as the 
gang led us under a tree they considered well adapted to the 
purpose they had in view, and put ropes about our necks. 

" 'Hold on there !' shouted a man on the outskirts of the 
crowd, and the next moment the colonel of the regiment — I 
think his name was Kennedy — stood at our side. He ordered 
the ropes taken from our necks, and questioned us sharply, but 
I guess he didn't believe what we told him, as he placed us in 
charge of four of his men, armed with sabre and carbine. Soon 
after the surgeon of the regiment engaged us in conversation, 
and ordered his servant to serve us with a repast, for which hos- 
pitable act we thanked him. He inquired concerning some 
friends in New Jersey whom 'Bob' happened to know, and said 
he regretted it was not within his power to restore us our liberty. 
About noon a three-hundred pound shell from one of our gun- 
boats, exploding over our heads, so demoralized the cavalrymen 
that they had no appetite for dinner, ready to be served. On the 
contrary, they obeyed with alacrity the call of 'Boots and Sad- 
dles,' and hastily fell back a mile or so, when our guard escorted 
us over to Beauregard's headquarters, where we were thoroughly 
searched, and, I might add, robbed, as they relieved us of 
watches, caps, boots and haversacks. General Beauregard came 
out of his tent and looked us over, questioning us sharply. He 
was surrounded by his staff. He talked nice and sweet to us at 
first, but, failing to get the information he earnestly sought, he 
gave vent to his disappointment and anger by using a good many 
cuss words, in French and English, at the same time. 'Bob' 
had to laugh on hearing the general talk so fast, which increased 
his rage. 'You were foraging, ah! ah! Veil, you can forage in 
Petersburg!' whither we were at once sent. But the general 
forgot to restore our boots and other things he had allowed his 
guards to strip us of. We had to walk in our stockings. After 
being confined in Petersburg seven days we were sent to Ander- 
sonville, whose horrors we endured for many long and dreary 
months." 



230 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



"TOM" McCORMICK'S CLEVER CAPTURE. 

THOMAS McCORMICK, a private in my company, still 
living, had many exciting experiences during his four 
years' service. "Tom," as he was and is still familiarly 
called, never shirked any kind of duty ; in fact, his love of ad- 
venture often impelled him to volunteer for the most dangerous 
work. "Tom" wasn't by any means the handsomest man in the 
regiment, General "Ben" Butler, our department commander, 
being a beauty in comparison, but he always contrived to have 
his clothing, accoutrements and rifle as clean and as bright as 
they could be made. For this he was more frequently rewarded 
with passes than any other man in our command. 

The night of July 8, 1864, was serene, and along the long 
line of earthworks in front of Petersburg scarcely a sound dis- 
turbed the stillness, although 200,000 of the bravest men in the 
world lay crouching behind the banks of dirt. This was owing 
to a truce that had been declared in the afternoon by the men 
who did the fighting, of which they were heartily tired. Whether 
it was sanctioned by those higher up was not known. Suffice it 
to say the murderous work was stopped in the afternoon when a 
Christian-spirited "Johnny" raised a portion of his once white 
shirt over the Confederate works, in front of the Second Corps, 
and, finding it respected, sprang upon the embankment and 
shouted to us: "We uns won't fire, if you uns won't!" Then he 
bobbed down into his hole. Word was quickly passed along the 
line to the three corps — Second, Fifth and Eighteenth — and for 
the time being peace reigned. 

There was no doubt about the honesty of purpose on the 
part of the Confederates, as the moment firing stopped they 
stacked their rifles, removed their equipments and stretched their 
weary frames upon the ground to obtain sleep, of which all stood 
much in need. There was now absolute, even painful quiet, and 
some were silly enough to imagine the millenium had arrived ; 
that the time had come when the lion and the lamb could lie 
together in loving embrace. 

A single shot, however, and how changed the scene ! All 
was animation and intense excitement. In a moment the uner- 
ring rifles were again leveled, the two opposing hosts — a moment 
ago so peaceful and happy — now glaring in fierceness upon 
each other. But, hold ! What is that? A white flag borne along 
upon the enemy's breastworks, followed by the challenge : 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 231 

"Was anyone hurt by that shot?" 

"No !" replied a score of Union soldiers ; "the bullet struck 
this rail." 

"Throw that rail this way !" shouted the gallant Confederate, 

"and I'll make the fool who fired the shot carry it till 

dark. You Yanks kept the bargain that was made, and we shall 
do the same thing." 

Uttering these brave words he emerged from his works, 
approached our line, picked up the rail, and, returning with it to 
his own line, compelled the unfortunate fellow to shoulder it 
and march along on the breastworks till dark, he being the 
cynosure of all eyes. 

It was after the shades of night had fallen on this memor- 
able day that "Tom" McCormick, with two companions, was 
ordered to go out of our works to a point about midway between 
the two lines. Reaching the coveted spot, which they did by 
crawling upon the ground to escape the attention of the enemy, 
the three men halted, examined the surroundings as well as 
they were able by the pale and uncertain light of the stars, and 
secreted themselves behind a huge stump, whose conformation 
was admirably adapted for the purpose they had in view. It 
gave them comparative security and afforded the three courage- 
ous Union soldiers opportunities for listening to the "Johnnies," 
as well as to make timely discovery of any movement on the 
part of the Confederates. 

McCormick and his companions frequently came near be- 
traying themselves, owing to a disposition to laugh at the wit- 
ticisms of the unsuspecting Confederates. But midnight came 
at length, and with it all sounds ceased — the stillness that fol- 
lowed being painful. This caused McCormick to increase his 
vigilance, which was at length rewarded by the discovery of 
certain signs which pointed to some movement on the part of 
the enemy. With his foresight, sharpened by years of war and 
constant active service, he enjoined his companions not to move 
nor fire a rifle without his command. The sky, thickly studded 
with bright and beaming stars, rendered objects more or less 
distinct, according to distance. 

Hark ! Discovering three figures emerging silently and 
cautiously from a Confederate embrasure, McCormick's heart 
pulsates quickly as he sees them stealthily advancing toward 
his covert. Keeping his two blue criss-cross eyes intently fas- 
tened upon the party, slowly yet not the less surely approach- 
ing, "Tom" and his tried companions clasped their trusty rifles 



232 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

more firmly, if possible, determined to thwart the designs of the 
trio, or die in the attempt. As "Tom," actuated by motives of 
self-preservation, thinking the party had advanced quite far 
enough, was about to halt the Confederates, and demand their 
surrender, they stopped of their own accord, and talked in low 
monotones so long that the three Union pickets began to imag- 
ine that the stump behind which they were crouching was their 
objective point. "Tom" was at a loss for a plan of procedure. 
It would have been easy for him and his comrades to drop the 
unsuspecting Confederates in their tracks, but a disposition 
which ever characterized McCormick to show fair play, saved 
their lives. 

The anxiety of the Union soldiers is only relieved when one 
of the Southerners is seen to move off to the right — his two 
companions remaining where they had halted. Bidding his 
"bunkies" to remain and watch the two Confederates, "Tom," 
with the eye of an eagle, and the step of the feline creation, fol- 
lowed the one who was making his way to the works of the 
Union army, keeping as close as was consistent with the plan 
he had in view. 

He was familiar with every inch of the ground, which was 
of immeasurable advantage to him. The "Johnny Reb," with the 
utmost wariness, halted frequently to satisfy himself that his path 
was clear, as well as to more clearly scan our works, which he 
did with a large glass. This action convinced McCormick that 
the game he was trailing was of no mean quality. Perhaps it 
was Longstreet ; maybe it was General Lee himself. Whoever 
he should prove to be it was worth risking much to capture or 
— kill, and one or the other of these alternatives "Tom" was 
now fully determined upon. 

Without really knowing it, McCormick at length found him- 
self almost beside the object of his solicitude and attention, and 
on seeing the Confederate gazing upon him with basilisk eyes 
(so they appeared to my friend), he felt that the tug-of-war was 
at hand. 

"Didn't I tell you not to follow me?" asked the Confederate. 
"Go back to your post and wait as I ordered." These orders 
convinced McCormick that he had been mistaken for one of the 
Confederates who had come out of the works. The brave Yan- 
kee picket regarded this revelation as a timely interposition of 
Providence, and governed himself accordingly, but he paid no 
heed to the command given him. This disobedience enraged 
the Confederate, who came near betraying himself as he fairlv 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 233 

hissed with his closed teeth : "You hound ! Go back, 

or I'll put a bullet through your thick skull." 

McCormick, with imperturbability, and supreme indiffer- 
ence to the formidable injunction, merely took an erect attitude 
and placing the muzzle of his faithful Springfield rifle within a 
yard of the Southerner's body, ordered him to face about and 
march straight for the Union works. The Confederate's revolver 
dropped from his nervous hand, his face turning pale as death. 
A green and ashy hue, something beyond the tint of death itself, 
seemed to spread over his apparently handsome features. His 
eyes opened wide, and his jaw dropped, and for a moment 
"Tom" thought he must have fallen to the ground, so terrible 
was his agony of mind. 

Seeing his utter helplessness, he accepted "Tom's" invita- 
tion, and preceded him into our works, soon after being intro- 
duced to Colonel James Stewart, Jr., of the Ninth. 

Next morning "Tom" took his prisoner over to General 
Butler's headquarters. He proved to be a major of engineers on 
General Lee's staff. McCormick was warmly praised by the 
general for his clever bit of work, and rewarded with a ten-dollar 
greenback and a furlough for a week. The story of the capture 
went quickly through our corps, "Tom" being regarded by all 
as a brave and worthy soldier of the Union, in defense of which 
he gave four of the best years of his life. 



WAR RELICS GIVEN TO UNION COUNTY. 

UPON the completion of Union County's half-million dol- 
lar court house in 1906, the board of chosen freeholders 

expressed a desire to possess and care for the many 
Civil War relics gathered by the Elizabeth Veteran 
Zouaves during the conflict. The Zouaves, desiring their preser- 
vation, together with a beautiful silken banner given them in 
San Francisco, gladly complied with the courteous request, and 
the articles were deposited within handsome oak cases in the 
rotunda of the magnificent building. In April, 1906, General 
Drake, in presenting four flags to the county, said to the free- 
holders, assembled in the court room : 
Mr. Director and Gentlemen of the Board of Chosen 

Freeholders : 
To-dav, on the eve of the forty-sixth anniversary of the 
bursting forth of a fierce internecine war that lasted four terrible 



234 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

years, I have great satisfaction in delivering into your keeping 
for preservation by Union County, whose official representatives 
you are, these sheaves of the triumph of the Union cause. 

These flags, now mere fragments, torn and battle-stained, 
speak more eloquently than any words I am able to command. 

When these precious relics were presented to me in the long 
ago, while then somewhat torn and tattered, they were more 
perfect in shape and brighter in color, but their display in the 
streets of nearly every prominent American city, whither they 
have been proudly borne by the Veteran Zouaves of this city, 
in whose custody I had temporarily placed them, and the desire 
of many persons to secure pieces of the sacred woof, has reduced 
their once splendid proportions to their present fragmentary 
condition. 

The shred of once white bunting, upon which is woven 
"Kearny's Patch," as it was called (afterwards adopted as the 
badge of the Sixth Army Corps), the first distinguishing emblem 
ever designed or recognized by the gallant men of the Army of 
the Potomac, described by an eminent writer as an organization 
"inflexible of purpose, insensible to suffering, inured to fatigue, 
and reckless of danger," was ever where the intrepid General 
Philip Kearny's plume beckoned the way from Williamsburg to 
Chantilly, where the precious life's blood of that hero of two 
wars crimsoned the ground within the lines of a courageous and 
generous-hearted enemy. 

These remnants of the colors of the Fourth United States 
Infantry waved in the forefront at Fredericksburg, Antietam, 
Chancellorville, Gettysburg, and were with Grant when he swept 
through the Wilderness. 

The silken banner, a beautiful work of Oriental art, costing 
more than one thousand dollars, was presented to the Veteran 
Zouaves of this city by the George H. Thomas Veteran Guard 
of San Francisco, California, while guests of that famous com- 
mand in 1886. 

These relics of the greatest fratricidal conflict the world 
has ever known, beside which all other contests were pigmies 
in comparison, which I to-day deliver into your custody, lent the 
luster of their stars to the gloom of despair, as well as to joy in 
the hour of victory, grandly borne as they were by brave hands 
forward through smoke and carnage, planting them at last, after 
four long and terrible years, on the edge of the spring line at 
Appomattox. 

Four years of the lives of our country's defenders are 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 235 

wrought into their faded woof. These flags are the bond be- 
tween the great army of the dead and the army of the living; 
and they are precious to you, as to us, because they thus remind 
us and reunite us with the named and unnamed heroes who fell 
fighting under them for the humane principle of all right gov- 
ernment that the will of the majority shall be supreme. 

Before the Civil War, through which these shreds were car- 
ried aloft to victory through bellowing cannon fire, few of our 
people really realized the significance of our country's standard. 
Yet every soldier who volunteered to uphold and defend it 
knew full well its meaning. There was to them in the flag some- 
thing more eloquent than the orator's tongue, more beautiful 
than the painter's brush. Some present here this afternoon can 
recall the time when the flag of this now bright and prosperous 
land was not spoken of with the reverence which is now ac- 
corded to it. But by and by that flag did come to mean some- 
thing, and if to-day another struggle should come in which its 
honor was threatened, hundreds of thousands of patriotic citizens 
would rally to its support just as they did forty-six years ago, 
when, assailed at Sumter, after passing through a fearful baptism 
of fire for thirty-six hours, it went down in glory, its captors 
reverently saluting it. 

Our glorious banner signifies that there were thousands of 
fathers and mothers, sisters and sweethearts, who were willing 
to sacrifice everything that the heart holds dear to them for 
that one symbol. Not only does it represent the sentiment of 
patriotism, but it signifies liberty, equality and freedom to all. 
And if the time should ever come when new enemies shall spring 
up and try to overthrow it, then there will be people who will 
stand in the breach ready to follow it and fight for it just as they 
did in the awful days of 1861-1865. 

I recall instances of unparalleled bravery exhibited in the 
war for the Union, where no less than five men in one regiment, 
who loved our flag above all things else, sacrificed their lives, 
one after another, in defending our beautiful and priceless 
standard from the foe. It was instances of this character that 
added luster to the American soldier, and established for him a 
reputation for courage and intrepidity never attained by any 
other. It was because of this inborn heroism that our unsullied 
flag now floats upon honestly-gained but useless and costly pos- 
sessions in a far-off land, however much we may lament the fact, 
and it is because of this that America's glorious sun of peace is 
now in the zenith, high up under the dome of the Union, pre- 



236 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

served by the sacrifices of its gallant defenders, its refulgent rays 
illuminating a happy and prosperous land, with but one flag, 
from whose ethereal blue no star was lost in Disunion's eternal 
night of political darkness. 

These bullet-scarred and stained shreds of silk and bunting 
in themselves are of little intrinsic worth. They are now so frail 
that if unfolded the gentlest breeze would scatter their frag- 
ments. What gives them a priceless value is because of the 
sacrifices and associations that cluster around them. But chiefly 
are they precious to you and to all of us because they are the 
emblems of nationality — the symbols of governmental power. 
Mute though they be, they appeal to us in language more forci- 
ble than human utterance. 

Each rent and shred of these banners has a voice which 
to-day says to us, and to all men, although it cost privation and 
suffering, exposure and even death itself, come what may, this 
government must be maintained in its integrity, whether its 
assailants come from without or within, though millions of lives 
and billions of treasure be the sacrifice, the Union shall be 
preserved. 

An ancient history relates that the Romans erected monu- 
ments upon hills to celebrate the deeds of their heroes, and that 
the parents of Roman youth, in bidding them study the inscrip- 
tions carved in enduring marble, told that they, too, would have 
monuments erected to their memory, and the records of their 
lives carved upon them if they emulated the virtues and practices 
of those who have gone before. 

And so, Mr. Director and gentlemen, I trust will these tat- 
tered flags, now nearly half a century old, be an inspiration to 
those who come after us — an incentive for all to love our coun- 
try, and manfully defend its beneficent institutions. 



UNDER TWO FLAGS. 

ON a farm near Castile San Juan, Italy, early in the year 
1835, Camilla Bragga, for many years a highly respected 
citizen of Elizabeth, first saw the light of day. For 
more than thirty years he has been a faithful and popular mem- 
ber of the Veteran Zouaves, and the other evening at a gather- 
ing of the command, he was induced to tell some of his experi- 
ences in the Italian (or Sardinian) and American volunteer 
armies. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 237 

With a spirit for adventure rather than any desire to take 
part in the Crimean war against the Russians, at the age of 
twenty years he enlisted in the tenth company, Third Regi- 
ment, Italian Legion, under the gallant General Delia Mar- 
mora, and took part in all the operations of that command about 
Sebastopol. 

"It was on a beautiful Sunday in 1855, after a terrific bom- 
bardment of three days and nights," said Sergeant Bragga, 
"that we discovered Sebastopol to be on fire, and the Russians in 
full retreat. The tremendous explosions which shook the earth 
were like so many earthquakes. Wandering fires gleamed 
through the streets and outskirts of the town, point after point 
becoming alight, making a wierd spectacle ; the flames shone 
out of the windows of the houses ; rows of mansions caught and 
were rapidly consumed, and ere daybreak next morning the town 
of Sebastopol, the fine and stately mistress of the Euxine, on 
which we had so long and often turned wistful and longing 
eyes, was in a consuming blaze from the glittering sea to the 
dockyard. During the night Fort Alexander blew up with a 
stupendous crash that made the very earth reel. Numerous 
explosions followed in quick succession at sunrise, including that 
of the Redan, under whose debris was buried many of both 
armies. 

"When Fort Alexander and the grand magazine blew up 
the rush of black smoke, of gray and white vapor, of masses of 
stone, beams, timber, masonry, into the air was appalling, be- 
side which, I might say, the mine explosion in front of Peters- 
burg in the summer of 1864, which many of us saw, was insigni- 
ficant. Following came an awful roar of a great bombardment ; 
it was a magazine of shells blown high in the air, and exploding 
like some gigantic pyrotechnic display in the sky, the effect of 
the innumerable flashes of fire twirling high up in the column of 
dark smoke over the long-doomed town, and then changing as 
rapidly into as many balls of white smoke like little clouds. 

"All this time the Russians were marching with sullen tramp 
across the bridge, and boats were carrying off materials from 
the town, or bearing men to the south side to complete the work 
of destruction and renew the fires of hidden mines, or light up 
untouched houses. The Russians had the same determination 
to destroy Sebastopol as their fathers had when they applied 
the torch to Moscow, which ruined Napoleon and ultimately 
destroyed his great army. 

"As soon as it became light we began to steal from our 



238 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

trenches into the burning town, undismayed by the roaring 
flames, by the fire of a lurking enemy, or the shots which now 
and then came from their cannon, to prevent straggling and 
prevent us from extinguishing the flames. But little things like 
that didn't disturb us or stop our advance, as on we went — 
French and Italians, red breeches and blue breeches, fez and kepi, 
side by side — until finally reaching the houses, we entered to 
secure plunder — the Russian relics we were fortunate enough to 
obtain finding a ready and profitable market in camp. 

"The scenes I beheld after entering the Malakoff were awful, 
beyond my powers to describe, and my heart sank as I gazed 
upon the devastation and resulting carnage. I shall never recall 
the memory of Malakoff with any but feelings of loathing and 
horror; for round about me lay thousands of dead Russians. 
Many of the wounded lay there, and their low, dull moans of 
mortal agony struck with terrible distinctness upon my young 
years ; or, worse still, the hoarse, gurgling cry and vehement 
struggles of those who were convulsed before death relieved 
them of suffering. With the fall of the Malakoff fell Sebastopol. 
In a bomb proof I saw a music book with a woman's name in it, 
and a canary bird and a vase of flowers outside the entrance." 

After relighting a cigar, Sergeant Bragga told of his com- 
ing to this country, of his settlement in Elizabeth immediately 
after his discharge from the Italian army, of his enlistment in the 
Forty-eighth New York Volunteers, and of his three years' ser- 
vice in the Union army. At the battle of Deep Bottom, Va., 
August 16, 1864, Sergeant Bragga fell desperately wounded, 
shot through the side and arm, and, unable to escape, became 
a prisoner of war, and was conveyed to Libby Prison in Rich- 
mond. 

As he was being borne in a semi-conscious state into the 
dingy-looking building he overheard a Confederate soldier, 
standing guard at the door of the hospital, remark in the Italian 

language: "Here's another Yankee for us to plant!" 

Bragga, weak from the loss of blood, suffering intense pains, 
and half asleep, opened his weary eyes on hearing the rude 
words, and retorted hotly in the same language: "You'll be 
planted first if you go to the front, where you ought to be, you 
coward !" 

During the evening, the Italian Confederate, having been 
relieved from duty, with a view of learning more about his plucky 
fellow-countryman, entered the hospital and making his way to 
the spot where Bragga was lying uncomfortably on the floor, he 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 239 

kneeled down and peering intently into his face, suddenly over- 
come by emotion, became violently agitated. Seizing Bragga's 
hand he pathetically exclaimed : "Bragga, my dear Camilla, don't 
you remember me — Guiseppe Montazzi — your bunkie in the 
Sardinian Legion? Speak, I adjure you, and forgive me for not 
recognizing you as you were brought in here!" 

The agitated Italian Confederate, on finding himself recog- 
nized by his former companion-in-arms, gave vent to the great 
joy he felt, copious tears coursing down his cheeks, attesting 
relief of mind for the insult he had given a helpless and suffering 
prisoner of war. 

The friendship that had existed between these two soldiers, 
now bitterly arrayed against each other, since early boyhood, 
thus bloomed anew in a vile prison far from the land of their 
nativity. No surveyed chart, no national boundary line, no 
rugged mountain, no wide sea put a limit to the growth of 
friendship. Wherever it is watered by the dews of affection 
and kindness, there you may be sure to find it. Its all-powerful 
influence hovers o'er contending armies and unites the deadliest 
foes in the closest bonds of sympathy. Friendship and comrade- 
ship can only be found to bloom in the soil of a noble and self- 
sacrificing heart ; there it has a perennial summer, a never-ending 
season of felicity and joy to its happy possessor, casting a thou- 
sand rays of love and hope to all around, as it did in the case of 
my imprisoned comrade. 

And thus, in the United States, during a fearful internecine 
war, these two Italian soldiers, serving under different flags, and 
who, side by side, had stormed Russian embattlements, after 
years of separation, found themselves reunited under strange 
and painful circumstances. 

I will leave the reader to imagine, if possible, the joy these 
two warriors experienced on this occasion, and will bring my 
story to a close by stating that the Italian-Confederate did much 
to alleviate his former comrade's condition, relieving his dis- 
tresses by many kind acts, and finally induced the Confederate 
surgeon in charge of the hospital to secure a speedy special 
exchange for his comrade of old. 



240 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



JERSEY BATTERY PREVENTED RIOT. 

DURING the war for the Union the young men of the 
North, serving in the army and navy, had two deter- 
mined foes — one constantly in their front, the brave 
Southern soldier — the other nestled at home among their friends, 
ever ready to use the assassin's knife in the dark. The latter, 
too cowardly to prove their convictions on the battle-field, re- 
mained at home or jumped over into Canada to escape military 
service. They were of the snake species, and commonly called 
"Copperheads." Often and again have I heard my comrades 
express the fervent wish that they might be ordered North to 
wipe out the nest of venomous creatures who annoyed our 
friends by giving utterance to Southern sentiments. 

During the great struggle for the preservation of the Union 
many incidents relating to army life never "got into the papers," 
and that part of our country's history is only treasured by the 
boys who took an active part in the contest. As it is not gener- 
ally known that the Fourth New Jersey Battery of Light Artil- 
lery, commanded at the time by Lieutenant James B. Morris, a 
Trenton compositor, and one of the most promising and brilliant 
young soldiers in the army, was detached from the Army of the 
James early in November, 1864, and despatched on a steamer to 
New York City, to be in readiness to assist in quelling any dis- 
order that the adherents of the South and their political ally, 
George B. McClellan, Democratic candidate for President 
against Abraham Lincoln, might cause on election day, in order 
to show their sympathy for the Southern cause, I will relate the 
circumstance, as told by one of the boys, and show that to this 
gallant body of men much credit is due for the services rendered 
by the artillerymen on that occasion. 

"It was about 10 o'clock on the night of November 2, 1864, 
while occupying a dangerous position near Fort Harrison, that 
Lieutenant Morris roused us from the first sleep we had had in 
several nights, and ordered us to pack up quickly, and be very 
quiet about it. In less than two hours afterward we were on 
the move in Egyptian darkness, no lights being allowed, and 
not a star shining owing to a heavy rainstorm which prevailed. 

"Daylight found us about a mile from Bermuda Hundred — 
our clothing saturated and our stomachs empty. Just how we 
managed to reach that point was a mystery to all except the gal- 
lant Morris, who rode at our head. In the Stygian darkness 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 241 

we were compelled to make our way through many rough places, 
and through timber sections where the axles of our guns and 
caissons blazed the trees on either side. The elements — rain 
and wind — facilitated our march ; that is, prevented the enemy 
from hearing the movement, which, under other conditions of 
atmosphere, might have been revealed to them, and made things 
more unpleasant for us. 

"Exposed to all the fury of the storm we were compelled to 
remain in the woods until 12 o'clock the following night, when 
we marched to the dock at Bermuda Hundred and soon stowed 
ourselves and traps on a transport, falling asleep at once. We 
had a pleasant sail, but no knowledge of our destination until 
we passed through the Narrows, and entered New York Bay, 
soon after tying up at the Atlantic docks at Brooklyn. We won- 
dered what it all meant, and then we learned that we were likely 
to have a chance at the same fellows who rioted in New York 
City the previous year — those same fellows whom Governor 
Horatio Seymour called his 'friends.' 

"During the night of November 7 our battery was put on 
board the ferryboat Peconic, and bright and early the next 
morning we were ready to land anywhere in the city of New 
York and open fire in just one minute, which we would very 
much have liked to do had there been any disorder among those 
Democratic patriots. We remained on the Peconic for ninety-six 
hours, with no chance to show Horatio's 'friends' what Jersey 
artillerists could do in the way of handling the iron dogs of war. 

"Bluff old General 'Ben' Butler was with us, too, and 15,000 
brave boys in blue to back him. He wouldn't have hesitated an 
instant about sweeping New York's streets if occasion had 
arisen. Our presence saved the town from terrible punishment. 
The would-be rioters knew we were there for business, and that 
we would have performed in a manner creditable to our com- 
mand." 

YOUNG LIEUTENANT SAVED THE ARMY. 

THE state of New Jersey was never represented on the battle- 
fields of the American republic more worthily, or by a 
more intelligent, skilful or brilliant soldier than Major 
Rufus King. 

It was during the inglorious retreat of the Army of the 
Potomac from in front of Richmond to Harrison's Landing on 
the James River, in 1862, that Major King, then a first lieu- 



242 HISTORICAL SKETCHES QF THE 

tenant in the Fourth United States Artillery, had an opportunity 
to show the stuff of which heroes are made. 

It was solely through Lieutenant King's well-directed and 
herculean efforts that the Army of the Potomac, sorely pressed 
by a jubilant and aggressive enemy, was saved from the gravest 
disaster, if not capture, and for his brilliant services on this occa- 
sion, meriting the highest commendation of his superior officers, 
I subsequently had the pleasure and honor of securing for him a 
Congressional Medal of Honor, through the courtesy of my old 
companion-in-arms, the late United States Senator William J. 
Sewell, who was familiar with Lieutenant King's military history. 

The retreat of the Army of the Potomac from the very door 
of the Confederate capital, to which it had been successfully led 
by Hooker, Kearny and Hancock, only to be turned back by Mc- 
Clellan, always in a place of safety in the rear, was covered by 
Batteries A and C, Fourth United States Artillery, commanded 
by Captain George Hazard, a gallant veteran of the Mexican War, 
and Richardson's division of Sumner's Corps. This small force 
was closely and fiercely pursued from Savage Station to White 
Oak Swamp, where it narrowly escaped capture by Stonewall 
Jackson's famous and ever-dreaded command. The fighting be- 
tween these points had been constant, terrible, and with unexam- 
pled implacability. 

When the division and batteries reached the river running 
through the swamp early on the morning of June 30, it was dis- 
covered with dismay that the bridge over which the commands 
expected to pass had been burned during the night by our own 
army after gaining the other side, the commander of the last 
corps crossing the structure being under the impression that his 
was the last force in the disordered column. 

General Richardson, on finally effecting a crossing of his 
command to the opposite side of the stream, a task of great diffi- 
culty, owing to the deadly fire of the exultant Confederates, who 
had been confident of capturing the force, ordered Captain 
Hazard's two batteries, consisting of eight guns and about 175 
men, to take position on the brow of a hill overlooking the 
swamp, and to prevent the enemy from crossing. Ten minutes 
after this the noble Hazard, mortally wounded, after telling Lieu- 
tenant King to take command of the artillery, and "fight for- 
ever," was carried from the field. 

Lieutenant King, appointed to the regular artillery from 
-civil life shortly after the outbreak of the war, had thoroughly 
mastered his new profession, and was abundantly qualified for 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 243 

the responsible duties thus suddenly thrown upon him, and he 
more than fulfilled the expectations of his men, all of whom had, 
long since, learned to love him for his noble qualities of heart 
and mind. 

Lieutenant King had scarcely assumed command when he 
found himself ruthlessly and violently assailed by some thirty 
pieces of artillery which Stonewall Jackson had concentrated in 
an advantageous position, and from which he felt sure he would 
be able to dislodge the small band of Unionists, and enable him 
to build a bridge, effect a crossing, render more complete the 
defeat of McClellan's illy-managed forces, and secure immense 
stores on the opposite bank, which he believed had been aban- 
doned by the Union army in its flight. 

The unremitting fire from the Confederate batteries was 
frightful, but King's guns were so accurate in their range and 
so destructive in their operation that it soon became impossible 
for the enemy's engineers and bridge builders to further pursue 
their dangerous calling, which they reluctantly abandoned. The 
fire from Jackson's artillery at one time was so heavy and 
destructive that King's cannoneers and drivers were shot down, 
and horses killed in such numbers that some of the non-com- 
missioned officers, fearing to lose one of their pet pieces, took it 
upon themselves to withdraw it. Lieutenant King, although 
very busy in looking after his guns, men and horses, happening 
to see the men going to the rear with the piece, madly galloped 
in pursuit, and in a towering rage, compelled the men to return 
the gun to the firing line, which they immediately did. Had they 
hesitated an instant, King would have emptied his big seven- 
shooter into as many breasts. 

Throughout that terribly hot and live-long day, and far into 
the sultry night, Lieutenant King and his brave fellows, keenly 
feeling their awful responsibility, a matter wherein the safety of 
the Army of the Potomac, perhaps of the Nation itself, was at 
stake, although greatly fatigued by exhausting labors, continued 
to work their death-dealing instruments, pouring destruction 
into the ranks of the foe, thus keeping it well at bay. 

It was only when darkness robed the earth that they were 
enabled to rest from their awful work. They were worn out with 
fatigue ; they were hungry, and greatly felt the want of sleep. 
While some were enamored of glory, and so flushed with the 
hope of continued success, they were absolutely incapable of 
repose. As they passed the wakeful hours, and the silence and 
darkness of midnight stole upon them, they gave themselves up 



244 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

to profound meditation. They reflected on the intense excite- 
ments and manifold dangers through which they had passed, and 
mused on the result achieved in checking the onward course of 
the invincible Stonewall Jackson, who had caused fearful havoc 
in the Union ranks. They compared the stillness of the night 
with the tumult of the previous days and what might follow on 
the morrow. They fancied that Death was still hovering over 
their decimated command, but the Cimmerian hue prevented 
them from distinguishing who would be the unhappy victims. 
They then thought of their parents and other loved ones at 
home, and the uncertainty whether they would ever see these 
beloved ones again plunged the brave artillerymen and their 
heroic, intrepid commander into the deepest melancholy. 

Frequently in the silence of that long and never-to-be-for- 
gotten night, Lieutenant King and his men were startled by the 
report of cannon, which, passing over the thick surrounding for- 
ests, sounded in a peculiarly mournful and horrible manner. The 
unexpected sound, repeated by the echoes of the valley, was 
lengthened into dismal reverberations, and often, when the 
harassed powers of my gallant friend and his men were sinking 
into calm and refreshing repose, suddenly roused them, causing 
them to hastily and fearfully run to the guns, with no other 
thought than that "Old Jack," who, when not praying, was al- 
ways fighting, was making another attempt to cross the stream. 

In the midst of all these dangers and excitements Lieu- 
tenant King, in battle ubiquitous, preserved a calm and unruf- 
fled countenance. Keenly sensible of the great responsibility 
placed upon his young but broad shoulders, he was always where 
danger was thickest, but cheerful in disposition, he retained his 
presence of mind though surrounded by the most urgent dangers, 
offering in his own handsome and soldierly person the most 
perfect model of military discipline. 

But suddenly, in the early hours of the morning, Lieutenant 
King, who had passed the long and dreary hours of the night in 
ministering to his wounded, and in burying his dead braves, 
received orders to retire and follow in the footsteps of the army, 
which, by this time, had reached a place of comparative safety. 
His signal to limber up was instantly obeyed, his men eagerly 
rushing to their different sections. All passed in order noise- 
lessly to the rear, the equally jaded and exhausted Confederates, 
now wrapped in sleep, being none the wiser for the clever move- 
ment for several hours afterward. Major King had performed 
his task. He had saved the Army of the Potomac. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 245 

But there will be no more pomp and circumstance of war 
for Major King. Never again will loud-mouthed cannon con- 
front or speak to him — no blast of bugle or drum-beat summon 
him to ensanguined fields. No more will he hear the screaming 
shell — no more feel the surgeon's knife. Enshrined in the hearts 
of his countrymen the memory of Major King will ever be 
cherished, and around the festive boards of his companions-in- 
arms will be recalled his excellencies, with sighs that he has 
crossed the Silent River. 



FEARFUL SCENES AT HATTERAS. 

WHILE aware that soldiers are ill qualified to narrate 
stories of the seas, a province more properly belonging 
to those who have a fondness for going down in ships 
that pass in the day as well as by night, I hesitate in attempting 
to tell of exciting experiences myself and 1,200 comrades had 
on shipboard during a fierce gale at Hatteras, the most treacher- 
ous and dangerous part of our coast, in January, 1862. 

The Ninth New Jersey Regiment formed a part of the 
Burnside expedition — seven companies embarking on the ship 
Ann E. Thompson, and five on the brig Dragoon. Our fleet, 
the largest up to this time that had ever been assembled in 
American waters, after leaving Fortress Monroe, had a rough 
time in going down the coast in the face of a stout gale and 
adverse winds. We had a disagreeable time all the afternoon, 
and during the night, the storm raging with increasing violence, 
the cold winds howling fiercely as they hurled the tempestuous 
waters mountain high, tossing our vessels in a manner adapted 
to excite the fears of the most intrepid. Many of the men, by 
the violent motion of the ships, were thrown out of their bunks, 
some sustaining bodily injury. Sleep was impossible, but the 
men of the Ninth survived the manifold horrors of the night, 
hailing with joy the dawn of another day. 

Shortly after noon we saw a long, low, narrow strip of white 
sand over our starboard bow, and an hour or two after anchored 
a mile or so this side of the inlet to Pamlico Sound. The two 
vessels bearing the Ninth Regiment anchored near each other, 
both displaying signals of distress by floating flags with the 
Union down. Near us was a large side-wheel steamer immersed 
in the constantly rolling breakers, fast going to pieces. The 
angry waves dashed completely over it with terrific force. While 



246 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

we knew it had been wrecked, we were in ignorance of the fate 
of those who, a few hours previous, had guided the stately vessel 
within sight of its destination, only to witness its destruction on a 
bleak and inhospitable coast. 

On the following day, the" winds having moderated, and the 
sea somewhat calmed, Colonel Allen, Lieutenant-Colonel Heck- 
man, Surgeon Weller and Adjutant Zabriskie proceeded in a 
small boat from the ship Ann E. Thompson to General Burn- 
side's headquarter boat in the harbor, to report the arrival of 
the command, and to ask assistance in getting our two vessels 
into the haven of security. Concluding their business, the 
colonel and his staff started upon the return trip, being speedily 
and skilfully rowed by a vigorous crew, commanded by the 
second mate. 

All went as desired until the heavy breakers were reached 
at the outlet to the inlet, when suddenly, without a moment's 
warning, a huge wave rose out of the sea, bursting over the bow, 
sweeping to the stern, unshipping the oars, and nearly swamp- 
ing the staunch little craft. Despite the unlooked-for mishap, 
officers and crew retained presence of mind, maintaining the 
uprightness of the boat, nearly half filled with water. But while 
congratulating themselves on their good luck, a second and 
larger breaker overwhelmed them, instantly swamping the heavi- 
ly-laden boat, and precipitating the occupants into the foaming 
sea. An agonizing scene followed. 

Colonel Heckman and Adjutant Zabriskie, powerful and 
expert swimmers, with a reckless disregard for their own preser- 
vation, nobly went to the assistance of Colonel Allen and Sur- 
geon Weller, who were battling in the angry surf, but owing to 
the exceeding roughness of the waters and their own exhaustion 
were compelled to leave them to their fate. The white foam 
surged about them, while the spray often engulfed them, the 
thunder of the dashing surge constantly sounding to them like 
the awful knell that the enraged ocean was singing for the vic- 
tims it was seeking to entomb. Colonel Allen, although weigh- 
ing nearly three hundred pounds, with much of life's span already 
behind him, was a good swimmer, but being encumbered with 
a heavy rubber coat over a tight-fitting uniform, soon be- 
came exhausted by the great efforts he made to save himself, 
and finding it hopeless to further contend with the wild and over- 
powering waves, being completely exhausted with his prolonged 
efforts, and nature fast sinking in the useless conflict, said to the 
ever-intrepid Heckman and gallant Zabriskie, "I can not stand 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 247 

this much longer — take care of yourselves ; may heaven bless you 
both !" abandoned himself to a cruel fate and was seen no more 
by his still struggling companions, who, although ready to meet 
death, felt it hard to die without a determined struggle. 

Meantime the sailors had made strenuous efforts to right the 
up-turned boat, but this they failed to accomplish, the heavy 
swells bobbing it about like a cork. Colonel Heckman and the 
adjutant, by dint of great exertion, finally succeeded in reaching 
the over-turned boat, which was fast drifting to sea on an out- 
going tide, and managing to raise a piece of apparel tied to an 
oar they had succeeded in securing, soon after attracted attention 
from the crew of the steamer Patuxent, which went promptly to 
their rescue. Thus were saved these two from entombment at 
the ocean's bottom. They were preserved for years of gallant 
service to the country for which they were willing, and in which 
they did suffer much e'er the great war ended — the former en- 
during months of captivity at my side in various prison pens, 
the latter giving his noble and promising young life while fiercely 
battling to enter Richmond, seven miles below that stronghold, 
in May, 1864. 

The bodies of Colonel Allen, Surgeon Weller, and the mate 
of the ship (who was also drowned), fortunately were recovered 
late in the afternoon, and next day, enwrapped in canvas, com- 
pletely covered with tar and sand, temporarily interred on Hat- 
teras' cheerless bank, where the wild waves chanted solemn re- 
quiems, Company B being entrusted with paying the last sad 
rites to the memory of departed worth. 

Two weeks later the remains of our officers were exhumed 
and placed on the steamer Suwanee in charge of the Ninth's 
chaplain, who was detailed to accompany the bodies to New 
Jersey. Had not the regiment been on the eve of battle, in 
which every man would be needed, it is probable a suitable de- 
tachment would have been sent along. A few days afterward the 
remains of Colonel Allen and Surgeon Weller, encased in hand- 
some caskets, reached Trenton, and were escorted to the State' 
House. State Street, through which the mournful cortege — a 
regiment of militia — passed with measured tread and saddening 
strains, was lined with people. The caskets, draped with Ameri- 
can flags, were carried into the Senate Chamber, where they 
were viewed by thousands of sorrowing citizens. 



248 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



THE YOUNGEST SOLDIER. 

FOR many years past, among survivors of the Civil War, the 
question as to who was the youngest soldier in the Union 
Army has been mooted, but it seems no more clearly set- 
tled than before. I have always believed, however, that "Gus" 
Schurman, who blacked boots at three cents a shine in the City 
Hall Park, New York, just before the war broke out, was the 
youngest member of the great Union Army. 

In June, 1861, burning with a desire to serve his country, 
although but ten years old, he enlisted in the Fortieth New York 
(Mozart) Regiment as a drummer, in which line of music he 
was considered a prodigy. His father, a German, was a bugler 
in this command, and through his influence "Gus" was mustered 
into the service. 

At Harrison's Landing, after the disastrous campaign in the 
early summer of 1862, General McClellan, who had a greater 
partiality for "reviews" than fighting the enemy, set a day for 
an elaborate ceremony, and General Philip Kearny called for a 
drummer boy to serve as his orderly. Young Schurman was for- 
tunate in securing the coveted detail, and never regretted the 
honor conferred upon him. When the general (Kearny) pre- 
sented him with a silver-plated bugle, and bade him mount a large 
white mare, known as "Babe," over whose broad back he could 
scarcely stretch his short legs, the breath nearly left his body. 
His previous horse-exercise had been limited to riding a sutler's 
horse to water. During the manoeuvres, General Kearny, a superb 
fiorseman, and always seated as firmly as a centaur, followed by 
his staff, galloped over a rough field broken by a formidable 
ravine. The general, mounted as usual on his powerful gray 
charger "Moscow," after taking this with a mighty bound, looked 
around with a merry twinkle to see if his aides could do likewise, 
but dismayed at the jump which "Moscow" had made, they 
hunted for an easier and safer crossing. The little drummer alone 
followed the intrepid general. "Babe," a stable mate of Kearny's 
horse, which he bestrode, was coming like a whirlwind, and his 
diminutive rider might as well have attempted to stop a railroad 
train as to check the headlong course of the excited animal. On, 
on came the great white charger, ears back, red nostrils all wide, 
and eyes like coals of fire, to the edge of the precipice, when, ris- 
ing on her powerful haunches, as if shot from a catapault, she 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 249 

leaped high into the air as though to leave the earth forever, and 
safely landed on the other side, her light burden pale and almost 
senseless with the sensation. 

The chivalric Kearny, delighted with the clever act of his 
subordinate, commended him, and declared he must consider 
himself as his permanent orderly. From that hour until the 
lamented but glorious death of the general at Chantilly, young 
Schurman was ever at his side. Often in battle General Kearny 
used the back of his little bugler as a writing desk, and if at any 
time he trembled at the surrounding dangers, the general was 
sure to roundly curse him. 

One day the president, Mrs. Lincoln" and "Tad," their 
youngest son, then ten years old, visited the army at Belle 
Plains, and when "Tad" saw the little bugler he found his 
■"affinity." "As I look back," said Mr. Schurman to the writer 
a few years ago, "I can see that I must have been an object of 
envy to 'Tad,' as by that time I had become quite a horseman, 
could blow a bugle, beat a drum, and swagger about like the 
bigger ones. The men, with whom I was somewhat of a favorite, 
had presented me with a mustang that had formerly been rid- 
den by General Mosby, the guerrilla chieftain, and on him I 
cavorted about the field until 'Tad' could stand it no longer, 
and persuaded a cavalryman to lend him his horse to ride. Final- 
ly, the president and Mrs. Lincoln being ready to return to 
Washington, called 'Tad,' and bade him take leave of me. 

" 'Mother,' says 'Tad,' T won't go home unless 'Gus' (as 
he already called me) can go along.' 

" 'Oh, no,' interposed the president ; 'that won't do. This 
lad is a soldier, and must remain here and attend to his duties.' 

" T don't care, pop,' responded 'Tad' ; 'I want him to 
go home with me and teach me to ride and blow the bugle.' 

"This appeal, and the tears which suffused his eyes, was too 
much for the tender heart of our president, who ever loved 
'Tad' as the apple of his eye, and to relieve the great and good 
man from embarrassment General Kearny said : 'Mr. Presi- 
dent, if you desire, the bugler may accompany you. I will give 
him a furlough.' 

" 'Tad, greatly overjoyed, thanked the general, while I re- 
turned to my tent and secured my knapsack. I rode to Wash- 
ington in the president's carriage, and that night slept serenely 
in the guests' chamber at the White House. 'Tad' slept in a 
crib alongside his parents' bed. The contrast of my new quar- 
ters with mv humble and sometimes uncomfortable lodgings of 



250 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

the past year was so overwhelming that even now the thought 
of the beautiful chamber I occupied awes me. 

" 'Tad' was a generous-hearted, sweet-tempered lad, with 
an adventurous and inventive turn of mind. I well remember 
one Sunday afternoon when the rain kept us in doors, that 
'Tad's' budding genius took a particularly distinctive turn, when, 
with his little hatchet — perhaps the same one used by young 
George Washington — he hacked at various pieces of furniture, 
and finally sawed away the banisters of the main stairway. 
When this was reported to the president, he called 'Tad' and my- 
self into his room and entertained us with a story about the 
Black Hawk war, and showed us the sword he carried in that 
campaign as captain of a company of volunteers. He did not 
allude to our vandalism. 

" 'Tad' and I owned Washington for several weeks, doing 
pretty much as we pleased. We frequently attended theatres, 
having carte blanche, and many a time he and I sat in the theatre 
box in which the president in 1865 lost his life. 

"One night at Grove's Theatre there was a play called the 
'Marble Heart,' in which a dark, handsome man, with brilliant 
eyes, took the leading part. Spellbound with the acting, 'Tad' 
and I looked up his name on the program. 'I'd like to meet that 
actor,' said 'Tad.' 'He makes you thrill.' So, after the second 
act, we went back of the stage, and were taken to the dressing- 
room of J. Wilkes Booth. 

" 'This is President Lincoln's son,' said the stage manager, 
and the actor gave us each a hand with a captivating smile. He 
continued his make-up, asking us how we liked the play, and 
we telling him the parts we most admired. On leaving he handed 
us each a rose from a bunch that had been presented him over 
the footlights." 

My comrade's life at the White House ended as abruptly as 
it began. With the aid of Mrs. Lincoln the two boys arranged 
an entertainment for the benefit of the hospitals, the price of 
admission being fixed at ten cents. The audience was chiefly 
composed of soldiers. Early in the evening, just after the presi- 
dent had entered the hall, a mud-stained courier arrived from 
the front, telling of General Lee's invasion of Pennsylvania, and 
in a moment all was confusion. Next day Schurman received 
an order to return to his command, and he hurried to Gettys- 
burg, reaching it with the Third Corps. 

For many years after the war, Mr. Schurman was an officer 
of customs in New York. He frequently visited me at my home. 
A decade ago he crossed the Silent River. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. «* 

HOW TRENTON HEARD OF SUMTER'S FALL. 

TRENTON enjoys the proud distinction of having raised and 
pipped thVfirst tLe companies of volunteers 11^ the 
War for the Union-Companies A, C and D, Third Re i 
nient-and New Jersey has the honor of having sent the first 
brigade-four full regiments-to the national capi a L 

General Beauregard, commandmg Confederate torces 

son, commanding at the tort (a resiuem 

been so profoundly stirred. 

<U noon that day members of the America Hose Company 
^^^1..^ to form a nucleus for « 

t ^ SiSTf b SLSf lat^o^he sou* 
S ^t^/ and opened ^-^-J^S.! 

^£^t^3?« ™ caU fo " 

^r-S M^Ci^. r company (C, Wilson 
;:S iK of't ct to be made into so-caned uniforms. 



252 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

I recall that an old lady, living on Warren Street, near the Bel- 
videre Railroad bridge, had the making of my jacket, and that 
I impatiently waited in her house several hours to see her finish 
it, so anxious was I to don soldier's apparel, and I remember 
how vain I felt as I walked down Warren street to the recruiting 
station, wearing the little gray blouse. It was probably the first 
uniform made and worn in Trenton's streets after the issuance 
of the president's proclamation. Whether I removed the jacket 
on retiring that night I have no recollection, but I vividly recall 
sleeping in it from that time on for three long months. 



Eight days afterwards we were mustered into Uncle Sam's 
military service by Lieutenant A. T. A. Torbert, U. S. A. (after- 
wards a famous general), and at noon on the fourth of May left 
for Washington on steam propellers, going by way of inland 
waters owing to the impossibility of traveling by rail, the "Plug 
Uglies" of Baltimore having control of the Monumental City, 
and interdicting communication with the national capital. 

The three Trenton companies, without overcoats, despite 
the chilly weather, embarked on the first propeller in line. It 
occupied the lock at State Street, where an immense crowd had 
assembled to witness the embarkation and departure. The scene 
pictured there that day and its memories will abide so long as 
life lasts. Very few, however, of those who witnessed the leave- 
taking are now living. The roar of cannon, the waving of flags, 
the fluent cheers did not move us as did the parting kiss, the hot 
tear, the tender farewell, the admonition to remember the holy 
cause in which we had embarked, and the lavish distribution of 
beautiful flowers in every form of graceful bouquet, brought by 
father, mother, sister and sweetheart. 



The Trenton Gazette, next day, in describing the departure of 
the Third Regiment, said: 

"As the Trenton companies sailed away ladies waved their 
handkerchiefs, cheer after cheer was given and returned, and the 
drums beat. The mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends and 
even sweethearts of many of the soldiers were there to bid them 
adieu, it may be for the last time. Mothers whose sons were 
going to the wars ; wives who parted with loving husbands, bit- 
terly wept, and in that large crowd there was not a man who did 
not feel his heart beat in sympathy with the solemn and affecting 
scene. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 253 

"The soldiers, although sad and sorrowful, as men would 
be in taking leave of relatives and friends, appeared nevertheless, 
firm and determined ; and we have no doubt that when they meet 
the Southern traitors in the shock of battle, they will render a 
good account of themselves. After many anxious days of sus- 
pense, part of our gallant soldiery have gone forth to battle for 
the right, and hundreds more are ready to leave our city, and 
thousands to leave our state, to follow them. May God go with 
them ! May victory perch upon their standards ! May rebellion 
be crushed, and the Union be maintained, and the Jersey blues 
come home covered with glory !" 

The voyage to Annapolis was attended by many discom- 
forts, a fierce northeasterly storm prevailing. On the way down 
the Delaware River, the propeller "Farmer," on which the Trem 
ton companies had taken passage, was blown upon a bar but 
not the kind most of the boys would liked to have visited at 
that particular time, causing considerable excitement The old 
hulk was finally gotten off, but only with great difficu ty, and 
we were heartily grateful when we landed at Annapolis, although 
we did so in the midst of a pelting hail-storm. We were very 
hungry, an incompetent and ignorant quartermaster having 
failed to provide sufficient rations for the trip. 

The arrival of the Jersey brigade at the National capital sent 
a thrill of great joy through the great heart of our noble and 
patriotic president, and gave him the first assurance that the 
capital was safe by our presence. We took possession of unoccu- 
pied buildings on Pennsylvania Avenue, holding evening parades 
on that broad but then alternately dusty and muddy thorough- 
fare, until we received tents and went under canvass on Meridian 
Hill, a couple of miles outside the city, where we had our first 

drills. , ., , . . 

At midnight, May 24, under a full moon, our brigade 
marched silentlv down Fourteenth Street to the Long Bridge 
spanning the Potomac River, passing en route long lines of 
waiting troops. No sounds, save the measured tread of the 
marching columns, the hoof-beats of horses and the rumbling 
of artillery wheels, disturbed the serenity of the beautiful night, 
the people of Washington being in blissful ignorance of the 
movement. 

The Jersey Brigade was preceded across the river by Dis- 
trict of Columbia volunteers, and two New York Regiments. 



254 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Turning to the left, after marching a few hundred yards, we 
found ourselves on the main road leading to Alexandria, while 
the column which led us across the bridge secured Arlington 
Heights, and with it the home of General Robert E. Lee, now 
overlooking the National Cemetery. We had probably reached 
half the distance to Alexandria, when we learned that Ellsworth's 
Zouaves and a Michigan regiment had landed in the ancient city, 
and that the gallant Ellsworth had been killed by Jackson, pro- 
prietor of the Marshall House. 

When day came our brigade was set to work throwing up 
entrenchments (subsequently well known as Fort Runyon). We 
were kept at this laborious work, besides doing picket duty, for 
several weeks, receiving no extra compensation, save in the 
issue each day of whiskey, in which a generous quantity of 
quinine had been mixed, thus doubtless saving many from chills 
and fever. 

While not active participants in battle in this the first cam- 
paign of the war, we cheerfully performed manifold duties for 
meagre pay — $11 a month — and without hope of reward for 
sacrifices made, other than enjoying the satisfaction that we 
were engaged in a righteous cause, and doing all in our power 
to uphold a government established by our forefathers. 



Who can cease remembering the privations to which the 
men of the Jersey (three months') brigade were subjected in the 
earlier part of the campaign? Whether this state of affairs was 
due to incompetent and inexperienced men in charge of the com- 
missariat, or the inability of the government to provide the 
necessary supplies, none have ever been able to satisfactorily 
explain, but we do know that for weeks after our arrival in 
Washington, like a half-famished crew of a dismantled ship 
which has been buffeted by storms, we availed ourselves of every 
opportunity to eke our scanty supplies by catching fish in the 
Potomac River, flowing tranquilly beside our camps. The cap- 
ture of a catfish, with which the placid waters abounded, was 
regarded with livelier joy than California miner ever manifested 
when his diligent search and severe toil were rewarded with the 
discovery of a nugget of fabulous value. 

As a result of the heroic sacrifices made by the three months' 
men, who left home and all that was dear at a moment's notice, 
without previous preparation, and without the stimulus of any 
bounty (such a thing not being dreamed of at that time), the 
national capital was saved. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 255 

To-day peace smiles on all our land. Over all the fields 
torn by battle kindly nature has strewn a robe of emerald, 
flecked here and there with buttercup and daisy. 

From towns and cities shattered by shot and shell, gentle 
time has rubbed every scar. Into homes desolated, content long 
ago came, and at broken firesides, long shrouded in gloom, the 
Angel of Peace has furled her wing. Industry, commerce, and 
all the arts flourish as never before. Resentments long and bit- 
terly cherished are hushed ; the embers of old exasperations and 
hate have died out upon the hearth. 

While thanking God that He has thus delivered us out of 
all our troubles, let us not forget the heroic dead who died that 
the nation might live, and let patriotic people continue to fling 
sprigs of rosemary on every loyal soldier's grave, keeping it for- 
ever green in grateful memory. 



REUNION OF EIGHTH NEW JERSEY. 

FOR many years past General Drake has been an honored 
guest at the annual reunions of the Eighth New Jersey 
Regiment. At the reunion in 1907, he said: 

"Mr. President: — In attempting a response to your cour- 
teous request and introduction, I again realize the swiftness of 
the flight of time, as apparently it were but yesterday — on a sim- 
ilar occasion — when you extended the same compliment to me. 

"I always experience great delight in attending the annual 
reunions of the survivors of the Eighth New Jersey Volunteers, 
in which organization I long ago found my "affinity, as you 
know, with one of your most gallant members, with whom I had 
peculiar and thrilling experiences in the darkest days of the long 
and bitter struggle of 1861-1865, and it gives me no less pleasure 
in being present to-night at your symposium. The genuine com- 
radcshipe ever shown me by Captain Harry H. Todd, of your 
regiment, my companion in captivity in various Confederate 
prison-houses, as well as in the longest and most perilous jour- 
ney made by escaping prisoners of war, has been to me a price- 
less recollection through all the intervening forty-three years, a 
longer period of life than is allotted the most of mankind, and 
I may add that as time passes, imposing languor and age, our 
affection, brought into being under dangerous, painful and dis- 
tressing circumstances, increases day by day. 'Tis this unalter- 
able love that binds me closely to you, his comrades, and gives 



256 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

me intense pleasure in greeting year after year as time rolls on. 

"This evening, as we come to this delightful and hallowed 
hour, you men of the Eighth recall the many battles in which you 
were permitted to take an active part in defence of the flag 
you cherished. None forget those terrible days of 1861-1865, 
when passion embittered the hearts of the people throughout this 
land, but to-night we sit here with gratitude to God because of a 
united country — because of one flag, which your devotion and 
sacrifices did so much to preserve. 

"The time will never come when your patriotism shall be 
forgotten, for your love of country and the principles underlying 
that awful struggle did more to inspire and bless this land with a 
true idea of the dedication of heart and life to our country's 
future and destiny than all things else. 

"The history of the nations of the earth, as they have striven 
for a higher civilization, is replete with tales of brilliant daring, 
of mighty valor, and of victories won through the baptism of 
blood and fire, but nowhere and by no people have those qualities 
shown to greater advantage than in our own dear land. 

"One hundred and thirty-two years ago our forefathers sev- 
ered the shackles that bound them hand and foot to England, 
whose king and nobles laughed scornfully when they heard the 
bell of Liberty in Philadelphia proclaim the establishment of a 
Republic, whose flag was soon to float on merchant vessels in 
every port of the world and become a symbol of power and 
protection to the lowliest person who could claim the proud title 
of American citizen. 

"Strong and great America stands to-day because of the 
patriotism and heroic sacrifices of the volunteers of 1861-1865. 
Our country no longer has the dew of youth upon its brow ; it is 
a giant, sturdy and strong. It has faced the chilling blasts of 
adversity and successfully climbed the proud heights of fame ; it 
is rich in agricultural and mineral wealth, and strong in citizen 
soldiery, who need but the sound of fife and drum, as in 1861, 
to call them from the farm, desk and factory, to defend the 
honor of the flag, for which you men of the Eighth did so much 
and suffered so greatly. 

"And if I correctly understand the portent of the present 
time, I may say the day is not far distant when our youth will 
be called upon to rally in defence of the flag we carried to glory. 
For months past mutterings of war have been heard on the Pacific 
coast, and a single breath may fan a great flame and let loose 
the dogs of war. It is well, therefore, that America to-day has 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



257 



a navy second to none in the world — ships and men capable of 
successfully engaging any foe that may appear on the seas. Let 
us be thankful, too, that at the head of our nation stands a man, 
who, seeing the great dangers threatening our possessions, has 
wisely taken timely measures to thwart Asiatic pretensions — 
at least for the time being. 

"May the young men of to-day, as well as those to follow, 
continue to draw inspiration and lessons of patriotism and devo- 
tion from the noble example, you, my comrades, set when, without 
a moment's warning or preparation for the sacrifice, you left all 
that was near and dear to hazard everything in defence of the 
best form of government ever vouchsafed to man. 

"And now, my comrades, when our Union exists in abso- 
lute integrity and our Republic is in complete and triumphant 
development, may the young men of this God-given land, whether 
their fathers or grand-sires wore the color that suggests the gray 
of the morning sky or the beautiful blue of the full noon, feel 
proud of our blended battle-fields, radiant with the common glo- 
ries of our companions-in-arms, and bind themselves together 
with the same sacred bonds of friendship and brotherly love that 
so happily and firmly exists between the comrades of the Eighth 
New Jersey." 

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF CIVIL WAR. 

SOME may wonder why those who served long years in 
the Union and Confederate armies during the Civil War 
delight at this late day in recalling recollections of the 
campaigns in which they took part, but when one has partici- 
pated in toilsome marches, faced dangers on field and rlooU, 
been weakened by the loss of life's blood and suffered the hor- 
rors of starvation in prison pens, it cannot be considered strange 
that he should remember the fatigue, hunger, thirst and agony 
of mind which made impressions that will last as long as life 
itself, or tell of exciting scenes he witnessed or of the sufferings 
he and his comrades underwent. 

When war's dread alarm sounded in Charleston Harbor in 
April, 1861, the people of the north and south, devoted for 
many years to industry, knew so little about warfare that none 
in this broad land had the faintest conception the struggle 
would be Titanic in character, and continue with unabated fierce- 
ness for four long years. 



258 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

The first campaign, ending with the miserably-managed bat- 
tle of Bull Run, has long been regarded as but little better than 
a costly picnic or pleasure excursion. The men who first re- 
sponded to the call of the respective Governments, left home 
carrying luggage enough to burden a small mule, the superfluous 
articles pressed upon them by fond parents, affectionate brothers 
and sisters, sweethearts and friends, including almost everything 
from a Bible to a dirk-knife. 

It was very hard at first for the volunteer soldier to acquire 
the habit of military discipline, so necessary to a proper perform- 
ance of duty. Particularly hard, almost debasing, the thought, 
was it for a young man, perhaps the son of a rich, indulgent 
father, to take arbitrary orders from the newly-fledged officer, 
who had but lately been in his father's employ. It required 
months for the American volunteer to overcome this feeling of 
superiority. 

Americans living to-day have but little conception of the 
fatigues and dangers incurred by the gallant defenders of the 
Union in 1861-1865. In the long marches the volunteer, some- 
times a bare stripling of 16 and under, was compelled to be his 
own master of transportation, keeping pace with older and 
sturdier ones during the long hours of the day, and often far 
into the night, with his great burden — enough to stagger a mule 
— of an eleven-pound rifle, canteen of water, forty or sixty 
rounds of ball cartridges, three or more days' cold rations, to 
fay nothing about heavy leather belts supporting cartridge box, 
cap pouch and bayonet scabbard, together with overcoat, rub- 
ber and woolen blankets, shelter tent, and often a change of 
-underwear. 

This burden was uncomplainingly borne by boys who never 
heeded weather conditions. They tramped along the weary 
-way- in clouds of stifling dust, under a burning sun, and fre- 
quently in storm and mud half ankle deep 

If depressed in spirit, or feeling as if they could no longer 
place one foot before the other, so great was their exhaustion 
and desire for rest and sleep, the sound of a cannot shot or the 
sudden rattle of a volley of musketry, instantly revived their 
hopes for battle and victory, and in a moment, relieved from 
ennui, fatigue was forgotten under the stimulus of battle forma- 
tion and the excitement attending the opening of a contest. 

While the American volunteer soldier had tribulations, he 
had also well-springs of pleasure — moments of joy and gladness. 
In camp, when not on duty, he indulged in various exercises. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 



259 



and improved his mind by reading, writing and innocent amuse- 
ments to relieve him from ennui. Some vocalists in our great 
army would have graced any public entertainment at home. 
Among the most noted singers I ever heard in the service were 
the famous Lombard brothers, of Illinois. Adjutant Lombard, 
prince of good fellows, while a prisoner of war, did much to 
enliven the spirits of his forlorn and unhappy companions in 
misery, and I doubt not his melodies and rich, musical voice 
saved many from despair and relinquishing hope of exchange. 
Of one solace the American Volunteers could not be de- 
prived. Amid all the excitements of camp, march, bivouac and 
battle, thoughts of loved ones at home restrained them from 
yielding to temptation, and inspired them with fortitude to en- 
dure privations as good soldiers. Letters from dearest kindred, 
descriptive of scenes at their old homesteads, and making in- 
quiry concerning their welfare, when received, greatly delighted 
and comforted them. The father who left an affectionate family 
to take up arms in their defense was constantly reminded that 
he was the object of tenderest sympathy, and his heart dilated 
with pleasure and his sinewy arms acquired additional vigor 
when he received this proof that his toils and sacrifices were 
appreciated by those dearer to him than his own existence. 

There was always something picturesque and sublime in a 
night bivouac of any army. The long lines of fires flickering 
and glowing in the darkness ; the groups of weary soldiers, their 
free and easy attitudes, their arms at their sides, ready to be 
caught up at any instant ; the simple fare, exhausted men cook- 
ing their own supper; the long-stretching shadows and the back- 
ground of Cimmerian blackness. Can you, reader, imagine all 
this? Then the vast multitude slumbers as one man — only the 
sentinels keeping watch and ward. The trees shelter some, 
and some lie in blankets under stars illumining the ethereal blue. 
And thousands of that tired and sleeping host are dreaming— 
some of home, some of partings that were painful, or of future 
meetings that shall be full of joy— till suddenly the trumpets 
sound, and all that host rises from the earth, and the stern reali- 
ties of' the toilsome march, the fight, the terrible roar and whistle 
of death take the place of dreams. 



260 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

THE FIRST STARS AND STRIPES. 

DID the Psalmist of old prophesy the eventual coming of 
the stars and stripes when he wrote the fourth verse of 
the sixtieth psalm, which reads: "Thou hast given a 
banner to them that fear Thee, that it may be displayed because 
of the truth ?" 

Is it not true that our starry banner has ever been raised 
"because of the truth?" 

Mankind has ever loved symbols and emblems, for they 
speak a higher, finer language than the human tongue can 
frame. 

The higher a nation stands the more of a halo will there 
be about its flag. The patriotism of its people is measured by 
their devotion to their national emblem. 

The white plume of the Knight of Navarre inspired his 
followers to deeds of desperate valor ; the sacred raven of the 
Danes led them to merciless defeat ; the passion red cross of the 
Crusaders was an inspiration as they advanced chanting prayers 
across trackless and burning wastes to battle with the Saracen ; 
Roman soldiers defended their eagles as their most precious 
inheritance ; while it was under the banner of St. George (not an 
Englishman) that Briton purchased Hessians to fight against 
American liberty. 

The war for American independence had progressed more 
than two years ere any step leading to the adoption of a National 
flag was taken by Congress. Up to that time the colonies had 
had no less than sixty-four different flags on land and sea. 

Who designed our starry banner may never be known, but 
it is commonly believed that Washington's coat-of-arms sug- 
gested the design. 

It goes without saying that women of English ancestry 
made the first American flag, using English bunting and Eng- 
lish thread, and, furthermore, that they presented the emblem 
to an English-bred Scotchman, shortly after the action of Con- 
gress in ordering the manufacture of a flag with thirteen stripes, 
alternating red and white, the union of states to be thirteen 
white stars on a blue field, representing the new constellation. 

John Paul Jones was first to fling the political firmament 
from his vessel, the "Ranger," then lying in New Jersey waters, 
a flag that has since astonished the world with its beauty, and 
delighted lovers of liberty with its symbolism. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 261 

Jones's flag, made in Philadelphia by two sisters — Mary 
and Jane x\ustin — after going the wide-world o'er, finally fell 
into the possession of James B. Stafford, a lieutenant on the 
"Ranger" and "Bon Homme Richard," an uncle of Miss Sally 
Stafford, of Trenton, N. J., with whom the writer was well ac- 
quainted. Miss Stafford religiously cared for the sacred relic 
until her death. 

I had the honor of displaying this flag in a political proces- 
sion in Trenton in 1854, and find it pleasant to recall the ap- 
plause accorded the emblem as it was proudly borne aloft from 
the bow of a large boat in which myself and other boy members 
of the "Stockton Sailor Club" rode through streets lined with 
patriotic 

THE BATTLE. 

THE grouping of falling men and horses ; the many heaped 
up masses of dead moved strangely by the living maimed 
among them, showing the points where the deadly strife 
had been most severe ; the commingling of uniforms of friends 
and foes, as both lie scattered on the ground on which they fell ; 
the groups surrounding this and that individual sufferer, hearing 
his last words, giving to him the last drops of water which will 
ever moisten his lips upon earth ; the stretchers borne from 
various points, each carrying some officer or enlisted man, who 
has now the startling feeling forced upon him, "it has come to 
this, and yet there may be hope of life;" his excited overworn 
spirit, half fainting as it is, yet dreaming a mixed feverish dream 
of the charge in which he met his wound, and the thoughts of 
home that flashed upon the heart as it seemed to commit that 
heart to a moment's oblivion of all else. 

Then comes the first dawn of the hope that life may be 
spared; the view of horrid objects passed, seen with a dimmed 
eye; hope of life growing stronger, but with it now a dread of 
some operation to be undergone ; the sound of guns still heard, 
begetting a feverish, impatient desire to know the result of the 
battle. Again, a partial waking up at the voice of the surgeon ; 
he and his assistants seen as through a mist ; the deafened feel- 
ings of utter weakness causing all to seem as though they spoke 
in whispers ; the still further rousing of the mind as the cordial 
administered begins to take effect ; the voice of a comrade or 
friend lying close by, himself wounded, yet speaking to cheer; 



262 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

the operation borne bravely, and felt the less as it gives promise 
of a life just now seemingly lost to hope; through it all fresh 
news ever arriving from amidst the din of the strife yet raging. 
All this has a life and motion and spirit in it which mocks the 
real grave horror of the scene. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 
GENERAL JAMES MADISON DRAKE. 

Written By His Father in 1275. 

THE subject of this sketch was born near Washington Rock, 
Somerset County, New Jersey, March 25, 1837, and very 
early gave indication of the enterprising spirit which has 
incited him to noble efforts during a busy life. 

As soon as he began to toddle, our hero accompanied his 
parents on holy days to the neighboring church; but instead of 
employing sacred hours in listening reverently to expositions of 
Scripture, and joining in the ascriptions of praise, it was his 
custom to wander from the maternal knee into the adjacent aisles, 
cultivating the acquaintance of sociable worshipers, and, occa- 
sionally, climb the pulpit steps to gaze upon a congregation of 
familiar faces. 

It was natural that a child manifesting such amiable traits 
should early desire to see something of the bright world into 
which he had been introduced. Accordingly, when he attained 
the age of two years, he contrived to climb into a wagon and 
conceal his tiny form behind the articles with which it was partly 
laden. Directly his father attached the horses, and, walking 
beside them, proceeded on his way over the mountain, little sus- 
pecting that the wee one, who was his mother's constant com- 
panion, was being jolted over the rugged road. Home was left 
far behind before the truant was discovered, and great was his 
joy when the astonished father consented that lie might accom- 
pany him to his journey's end. On the young traveler's return 
to his anxious mother he related marvelous stories of hair- 
breadth escapes from imminent dangers; and described in glowing 
sentences the wonderful objects that had delighted his vision. 

When Drake was about six years old, his father established 
a printing office in Elizabeth, and introduced him to a busy 
scene. Here the lad acquired much useful knowledge, and be- 
came a proficient in the "Art preservative of all Arts." At the 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 263 

age of twelve years, he was a rapid and correct compositor. 
When about fifteen, he held a situation on a Trenton morning- 
newspaper, and was noted for skill and diligence. The year fol- 
lowing (1854) he began the publication of the "Mercer Stand- 
ard," a literary paper of acknowledged excellence. Later, he 
started a daily newspaper, entitled the "Evening Express," which 
was continued by an association of journeymen printers under 
the title of the "True Democrat." 

For some time the energetic youth was a reporter on "The 
State Gazette," and his talents and industry won for him the 
esteem of Trenton's most eminent citizens. In 1860 he was 
induced to again engage in the newspaper business, and issued 
a campaign sheet entitled "The Wide-Awake," which did good 
service in the Republican cause, adding largely to Lincoln's vote 
in Mercer County. 

At the age of 23 years, Drake was elected an Alderman of 
Trenton, the Republicans giving him a handsome majority; and, 
at the expiration of his term, he was re-elected. In a community 
noted for its choice of good men for positions of trust, the election 
of the young publisher was justly regarded by his friends as an 
honorable recognition of his virtues and services. 

In 1859, Drake organized the "America Hose Company of 
Trenton," then, as now, one of the most efficient associations for 
the extinguishing of fires within our knowledge. He was four 
times elected an Engineer of the Trenton Fire Department, and 
widely known as an efficient officer. 

When news of the fall of Sumter reached Trenton on a 
bright Sunday morning, its citizens quickly engaged in consul- 
tation how best to aid in averting perils that threatened the na- 
tion's life. In this emergency many energetic firemen and others 
urged Drake to organize, drill and lead them to the defence of 
the national capital. He left press and type forthwith, and 
devoted all his energies to drilling those who were eager to serve 
an imperilled country. A vacant store on State street was 
secured, the Stars and Stripes were displayed, and fife and drum 
made things lively where Silence had long brooded. Here was 
organized the first company of "Minute Men" in our patriotic 
commonwealth. This command, attached to the Third Regi- 
ment, was one of the first military organizations in Washington — 
going by way of the Chesapeake, via Annapolis. 

With characteristic modesty, Drake refused to take com- 
mand of the company which he speedily organized, believing that 
a man of military knowledge should be appointed. He accepted 



264 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

the post of Ensign of the regiment, and during the campaign 
gallantly carried the colors, being the first to unfurl our flag 
(at the head of the army of invasion), on Virginia soil, the Third 
New Jersey regiment being the third to cross the Long Bridge 
the night the lamented Ellsworth was killed. 

At the expiration of their term of service, shortly after the 
battle of Bull Run, Drake and his comrades returned to their 
homes. But the patriotism of the Trenton boys would not allow 
them to be idle when bleeding countrymen called for aid to 
resist the foe on ensanguined fields, and Drake hastened to join 
the Ninth New Jersey Regiment, deservedly celebrated as sharp- 
shooters. 

Whilst serving as first sergeant of Company K, and receiv- 
ing only a sergeant's pay, Drake for a long time was in com- 
mand. His knowledge of military matters enabled him to be 
decidedly useful, while his acknowledged bravery inspired his 
comrades with courage. He participated in every engagement 
in which this famous regiment took part, displaying great gal- 
lantry and skill in leading his company. 

In the terrible battle of Drury's Bluff, Va., May 16, 1864, in 
which but four out of nineteen officers attached to his regiment 
escaped unhurt, Drake was taken prisoner and speedily intro- 
duced to the "Libby," where he had little to do except fast and 
reflect on the vicissitudes of a soldier's life. In common with 
hundreds of heroic men, he endured hunger with fortitude, slept 
the sleep of the just on the soft side of a plank, and laughed to 
scorn the efforts of brutal jailors to disturb his tranquility. True, 
thoughts of anxious kindred would intrude into his dreams, and 
were ever present in his waking hours. He was eager to regain 
his freedom that he might hear tidings of the dear ones at home, 
and again engage in his country's service. 

After enduring sore discomfort for a few weeks in Libby 
prison, Drake accompanied some hundreds of his fellow captives 
to Danville, that, in the language of a Confederate officer, he 
might have an opportunity of observing the picturesque scenery 
of that portion of the country and partake of the elegant hospitali- 
ties dispensed at the military prison at that salubrious spot. 

Fearing, however, that the captives were enjoying too much 
happiness here, and desirous also that they should visit other 
interesting points in the sunny South, they were removed to 
Augusta, to Macon, to Savannah, to Charleston. On their ar- 
rival at Charleston things were decidedly lively in the beleaguered 
city. With a patience that never wearied, and a skill that excited 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 265 

marvel, Foster rained shot and shell on the foe within reach of 
his batteries. While the heavens were lurid with fires of hell, 
the yellow fever seized on the vitals of many whom bomb and 
ball failed to injure. In this delectable spot, hundreds of men, 
whose only crime was that they loved their country, were sent 
to languish. Thanks to the protection of a gracious Providence, 
Drake suffered no harm in this hideous prison-house. 

Having passed a portion of the dog-days in the Charleston 
jail-yard, exposed to imminent peril, Drake was admitted for a 
brief season to the Marine Hospital. But the Confederate author- 
ities, deciding to remove six hundred Union officers from the 
"accursed city of the sea" to Columbia, Drake was among the 
number ordered on the pleasant excursion. 

In the various military prisons in which he had endured mis- 
ery in varied forms, he was indefatigable in planning means of 
escape. Taking his life in his hands, he was ever ready to en- 
gage in desperate undertakings to regain liberty. Powerless, 
however, to successfully engage their jailors in a hand to hand 
struggle, the captive officers sought to baffle their vigilance. 
What they could not hope to effect by force they resolved to 
accomplish by stratagem. To this end they organized a corps 
of sappers and miners, and attempted to dig their way to a change 
of scene. Tunnels requiring immense labor were excavated by 
men whose energies were taxed to the limits of human endurance. 
But when their freedom seemed well nigh assured, trifling acci- 
dents or accursed treachery baffled every effort. Watched with 
sleepless vigilance, the prospect of escaping from an intolerable 
captivity seemed hopeless to the great majority of Drake's asso- 
ciates. But he never despaired. 

After he had been a few months in Dixie, it occurring to 
him that his manner of life was becoming a little monotonous, 
he resolved to change it at the first convenient opportunity. 

He did not wait long. On the journey to the capital 
of the Palmetto State Drake and three of his companions agreed 
to regain their freedom even at the peril of life. At a favorable 
point he led the way in a leap for liberty, his comrades jumping 
from the rapidly moving car directly after. The guards were 
astounded by the extraordinary feat, that, for a minute, they for- 
got to fire a parting salute with the rifles which were their insep- 
arable companions. As soon, however, as their excitement al- 
lowed, they fired upon the fugitives, and let "slip the dogs of war" 
in the form of bloodhounds, swift of foot, keen of scent, and as 
ferocious and untiring as any animal on God's footstool. 



266 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Though the officers happily escaped injury in their terrible 
leap, and were graciously preserved from flying bullets and the 
awful fangs of the bloodhounds, they soon found themselves en- 
vironed with formidable difficulties. Hunger, thirst, home- 
sickness were among the minor ills of their pilgrimage. They 
were several hundred miles from a place of refuge, in the midst 
of implacable enemies, without guide or compass. Extensive 
swamps noted for deadly miasma, and thorns almost keen as 
razors, wide and deep streams, and mountains whose summits 
kissed the clouds, lay directly in their path. As they emerged 
from swollen streams their shivering bodies often attested the 
coldness of the water. Mountain ravines were threaded by 
Drake's naked feet, while snow and ice in profusion made his 
progress inexpressibly painful. His condition here was truly 
pitiable, the situation one of manifold horrors. 

The sufferings of the travelers, under the most favorable cir- 
cumstances calculated to cause strong men to despond, were 
greatly aggravated by the intense cold they encountered before 
they reached the Union lines. At this critical period of his his- 
tory Drake's wardrobe consisted of a blouse, pants and red shirt, 
worn thin and ragged during a period of six months' constant 
service. While rambling over sunny plains his garments were 
neither ornamental or comfortable, being travel-stained and dilap- 
idated. On the bleak mountains they failed to protect his form 
from an atmosphere that pinched like a vice. He had long been 
shoeless, and so badly were his feet frozen in climbing one of 
the highest peaks of the continent that it was feared amputation 
would be necessary. 

The limits allowed for this sketch will not permit us to record 
many interesting incidents attending Capt. Drake's remarkable 
escape. We can only add that, after being exposed to serious 
hardships during a period of forty-nine days, he reached Knox- 
ville, Tenn., November 16, 1864, and was soon surrounded by 
friends who ministered to his necessities while they listened 
eagerly to his exciting narrative. 

The New York Tribune, in publishing the adventures here 
concisely stated, said: "This escape is considered the most 
daring and wonderful that has been effected since the commence- 
ment of the rebellion." 

A brief period was allowed Drake to recover from the ex- 
haustion caused by the miseries of his captivity, when he returned 
to his regiment, was promoted, doing faithful service until the 
surrender of the rebel armies. 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 267 

On the recommendation of General Grant, the Secretary of 
War presented Drake with a Congressional medal of honor, which 
is more highly prized than any other of the cherished badges and 
decorations in his possession. 

On being mustered out of service Drake settled in Elizabeth, 
New Jersey, where, in 1868, he started "The Daily Monitor," 
which soon attained a large circulation and profitable advertising 
patronage. 

For five years he commanded the Third Regiment, N. G., an 
organization in whose prosperity the patriotic people of New Jer- 
sey took warm interest, and which has been honored with ovations 
in Washington, Philadelphia, New York, Trenton, Cape May, 
and other cities. 

For "long and meritorious service" Colonel Drake was 
brevetted Brigadier-General by a special act of the legislature, 
and the honor thus conferred on this gallant soldier greatly 
gratified his large circle of friends. 

As a disciplinarian and drill-master. General Drake pos- 
sesses qualities of a high order. He was ever held in deserved 
respect by his men, and the excellent reputation of the Third 
Regiment is in a large measure due to his eminent fitness to 
command. Few other officers have done as much as him to 
place the National Guard of New Jersey in its present creditable 
condition. 

General Drake early learned to sympathize with all who 
suffer adversity, and his captivity was so intolerable that he thor- 
oughly hates oppressors. He honors his fellows for their sterling 
qualities, believing that worth makes the man. Few have more 
warm friends. He has the rare faculty of winning the good 
opinion of all with whom he associates. As the publisher of a 
live newspaper, he exerts a wide influence, and ever seeks to 
do good as he has opportunity. 

JAMES S. DRAKE. 



268 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 



HOW BRAVE MEN DIED. 

A VOLUME would scarce suffice for the narration of the 
many noble deeds performed by the officers and men of 
the Eleventh New Jersey Volunteers, in their desperate 
and sanguinary struggle with Longstreet's almost invincible 
corps of well-tried veterans at Gettysburg on the second of July, 
1863, and so I will content myself by telling briefly of the 
strange fatality that overtook many of its gallant officers. 

After a long, rapid and fatiguing march over Maryland's 
dusty roads all the livelong day of July 1, 1863, the Eleventh 
New Jersey, on the evening of that day, found itself confronting 
Longstreet's jubilant and serried line occupying the extreme 
right of the Confederates on Seminary Ridge 

Although worn-out with fatigue, and greatly feeling the 
want of sleep, there were many among them so anxious to 
punish the foe for his insolence in invading northern soil, and 
so flushed with the hope of success that they were incapable 
of repose. As they passed the wakeful hours, and the silence 
and darkness of midnight stole upon them, they gave them- 
selves up to profound meditation. They reflected on the mani- 
fold dangers through which they had passed for more than a 
year, and mused on the result of a battle in progress for more 
than twenty-four hours — a battle that was to decide the destiny 
of the country — the fate of a government they had been taught 
to believe was the best form ever devised by man. They com- 
pared the stillness of the night with the awful roar of conflict 
they had listened to for many hours while hastening to the 
scene, and of the tumult which they knew would come on 
the morrow, but none could foretell who would be the happy 
or unhappy victims. They thought, too, of their parents, their 
flag, their country, and the uncertainty whether they should 
ever again see these beloved objects, plunged all into the deep- 
est melancholy. But suddenly, while the everlasting hills about 
them, and the beautiful dale below them, were enshrouded in 
an impenetrable fog, the bugles, clear and distinct, sounded to 
the deadly fray, the officers, fully alert, crying: "Fall in, boys, 
fall in," the worn and jaded men rushing to their different sta- 
tions, and all, in order for the battle, awaited the signal for 
action. All in that gallant host were animated by a love of 
country, and the necessity of conquering or dying for the flag 



REVOLUTIONARY AND CIVIL WARS. 269 

they loved. To the sentiment of self-preservation were added 
ideas of duty and of valor. 

Such were the feelings of men of the Eleventh and their 
comrades of the Third corps, when a radiant sun, bursting from 
the thick fog, rapidly dispelled, shone on many of them for the 
last time. 

The position occupied by the Eleventh, with that of the 
rest of the corps, was highly desirable to General Lee, and 
he ordered Longstreet to attack the Third corps with all possible 
vigor. Under cover of his splendid and admirably-served bat- 
teries lined along the wooded ridge, General Barksdale and his 
fierce Mississippians made a determined advance. On. on, came 
the Mississippians, covered by a strong line of sharpshooters, 
until they reached and occupied the little farm, near which the 
Eleventh, with bated breath, awaited them. Up to this moment 
the Jerseymen had withheld their fire, but as the elated 
enemy pressed forward upon the wasted line of blue they opened 
a terrific fire, momentarily checking the advance of the confi- 
dent and exultant Confederates, who were assured of success. 

It was at this supremely critical moment that the gallant 
and heroic Colonel Robert McAllister, commanding the 
Eleventh, while encouraging his brave fellows to stand firm 
in repelling the haughty invader, was disabled by two severe 
wounds— a Minie bullet in his left leg and a fragment of a shell 
in his right foot. "Don't give way, my boys," he said, as he 
was borne on a stretcher from the field. 

Major Philip J. Kearny had no sooner assumed command 
of the regiment, after the withdrawal of Colonel McAllister, than 
he fell dead, another victim on his country's bleeding altar. To 
the valor of a soldier he united the politeness of the gentleman. 
and. like his great prototype, General Philip Kearny, the hem 
of Chantilly, he was richly endowed with the qualities and all 
the virtues' that should characterize the American volunteer 

soldier. 

Witnessing the death of the only field officer present. Lap- 
tain Luther Martin, a young printer from Plainfield, took com- 
mand and while stimulating the men by his great courage and 
enthusiasm, he, too, fell upon the altar of liberty, his precious 
blood enriching the soil he so gallantly defended. Captain 
Martin's undaunted braverv on many ensanguined fields had 
long inspired the men of the Eleventh with a melancholy pre- 
sentment that such a warrior must necessarily perish on the 
field of battle. It was fulfilled at Gettysburg. 



270 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Captain Dorastus B. Logan, next in seniority, on witness- 
ing the death of his loved companion, sprang forward and worth- 
ily took his place, but had hardly done so ere he was ruthlessly 
robbed of a bright and promising life, falling beside the colors 
he had so intrepidly followed. 

Captain Andrew H. Ackerman then assumed command, 
and was instantly killed. Apparently, Death stood there to 
claim every shining mark. 

Captain William H. Lloyd, on being notified by Adjutant 
John Schoonover, stepped forward to direct the regiment, and 
while doing so, fell desperately wounded, and was removed to 
the field hospital. 

Adjutant Schoonover (still living), the surviving ranking 
officer present, took command, and although quickly disabled 
by two wounds, remained with the regiment, and shortly after 
under orders, led it from the gory field. 



FAMOUS CIVIL WAR ORGANIZATION. 

IN January, 1867, seventy-five genuine Elizabeth veterans of 
the Civil War, some of whom had stood by my side in the 

Ninth New Jersey Volunteers for four years, organized 
themselves into a body known from that time to this as the 
Veteran Zouaves, and unanimously elected me as commandant. 
The Zouaves, by superior drill and deportment, sprung into 
prominence at once, and during all these intervening forty years 
have been especial public favorites, not only in Elizabeth and 
throughout New Jersey, but in nearly every prominent Ameri- 
can city, in all of which they have been welcome guests and the 
recipients of brilliant receptions. 

The Zouaves have had as guests President U. S. Grant 
and Generals Sherman, Sheridan, John C. Black, John B. Gor- 
don, Governor of Georgia, and others, besides many prominent 
military organizations, including the Tibbitts' Corps of Troy, 
the Jackson Corps of Albany, and Confederate Camp of New 
York city. 

In 1879 the Zouaves visited Albany, N. Y., and acted as 
escort to the National encampment of the G. A. R., performing 
the same service in San Francisco in August, 1886. 

In July, 1885, the Zouaves visited Albany for the second 
time, and Troy and Saratoga, the pleasure of their brilliant tour 
being in a measure marred by the sickness and death of General 



272 HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE 

Grant, which occurred the day after they reached Saratoga, 
while en route to visit him at Mt. McGregor. 

In 1886, the Zouaves, forty strong, with sixty honorary 
members (including eleven ladies), crossed the. American Con- 
tinent to San Francisco in a special train of parlor cars, and 
were absent from home one month. Neither before nor since 
has any military command ever made this tour for pleasure. 

In 1890 the Zouaves made a tour of the Southern States, 
with New Orleans as the objective point. In the Cres- 
cent City the Zouaves were guests of the famous Washington 
Artillery for three days. Seventeen days were consumed on 
this trip. 

The Zouaves have made more pleasure excursions and visit- 
ed more cities and states than any other military command in 
the country. 

Three members of the Zouaves — General Drake, Major 
Rufus King, U. S. Army, and Col. Julian Scott, the famous 
battle-scene painter — received Medals of Honor from Congress. 

The last pilgrimage made by the Zouaves was in October, 
1907, when they bivouacked at Gettysburg, Harper's Ferry, 
Washington, Alexandria, Mount Vernon, and Arlington. They 
were absent from home one week, and on their return received 
a magnificent ovation from their fellow-citizens. (The accom- 
panying picture of seventeen survivors was taken in front of the 
commandant's home previous to departure.) 

The Zouaves have visited New York City, Philadelphia and 
Washington many times, and Albany, Troy, Saratoga, New 
Haven, St. Louis, Kansas City, Topeka, Kansas City, Los An- 
geles, Oakland, Alameda, San Francisco, Sacramento, Salt Lake 
City, Pueblo, Colorado Springs, Pike's Peak, Garden of the 
Gods, Chicago, Cincinnati, Chattanooga, Birmingham, New 
Orleans, Mobile, Atlanta, Augusta, Charleston, Richmond, 
Trenton, Princeton, Freehold, Camden, Newark, Jersey City, 
Orange, and many other New Jersey towns. 



